


Duality

by Darker_Side



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aggressive!Cap, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blink and Steve came again, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Cap's gloves are MY kink, Choking, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Food is a kink for Steve, Hair-pulling, He can do this all day, M/M, Manhandling, Mild Blood, Oral Fingering, Oral Sex, Pietro is a little shit who can't leave Steve alone, Pietro is an enthusiastic cock-slut, Pietro was not a bullet sponge here, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Power-Bottom Pietro Maximoff, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sorry Italians for defiling a canolli, Spit As Lube, Steve aced the fine art of eating ass, Steve is an obliviously thirsty old man, Steve's caloric needs is a kink, Tasmanian Devil tornado dick-riding, Tony has horrible timing, Top Steve Rogers, accidental shower renovation, angsty ending, awkward hand-to-hand combat training, cocaine-fueled woodpecker, copious amounts of cum eating/feeding, cum as lube, slut-shaming as a kink, surprise orgasm, the shield comes into play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darker_Side/pseuds/Darker_Side
Summary: Steve was done for. So fucking done for. Steven Grant Rogers, an American Icon, was going to die at the hands, mouth, and impeccable foreign ass of an enhanced twenty-something. In his own bed. A death any old man would be proud of. One to send him to the halls of Valhalla, as Thor would say, because sex with Pietro was, obviously, the sexual equivalent of battle.--or--The two times Steve didn’t see it coming, and the one time he did
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet lord... after posting and seeing a MAJOR error in formatting (where an entire segment was deleted) I had to delete the fic to fix the error. Everything seems to be in order now.
> 
> There are two links within the story text. They'll be underlined and will just take you to a google picture of the mentioned "thing". Trust me, it's worth it. 
> 
> Un-beta'd and not really proofread... Feel free to tell me about any major mistakes. Please. haha.
> 
> I won't bother you too much. For anyone using their time to read nearly 30k words of pure gay porn, I appreciate you.  
> <3

\--1--

So far in the 21st century, Steve had beat the stereotypical creepy-old-man status other men in their late 90’s probably hadn’t. To be fair, he didn’t look like the typical late 90’s man with paper-thin skin and a chin that resembled a scrotum. No, Steve was 97 year-old man in the body of a 31 year-old, certified American Prime Grade-A Beefcake Super-soldier. Thanks to his inexperience and all-around bashfulness towards any form of nude entertainment, it was easy for him to _not_ be the creepy old man whenever a young woman walked by with her nipples poking through her purposefully too-thin shirt and the bottom of her ass sticking out. That being said, he was, in fact, not made out of stone, and he could appreciate the wardrobe changes this century brought to everyone.

Taking all that into consideration, he was beginning to feel more and more like a creepy old man since the Avengers took the Maximoff twins in under their very expensive Stark-Tech wing. To be more specific, it was one twin, in particular. It wasn’t the ability, he had established that (okay, maybe a little bit because of the abilities). It was the way the kid talked to him (“kid” because they were roughly ten years younger), and how they knew about him, but their Sokovian heritage didn’t encourage them idolize him. Worship him. Steve had to earn every ounce of respect by being exactly who he was, and not by wearing a flag on his torso, or carrying a shield. If that got him a little hard in his pants, fucking sue him.

To make a long story short, those were the reasons for his current predicament. It should be like any normal day of training with the team. Everyone coming together to work on their combat strategies, both personally and collectively. They needed to be efficient alone and with everyone else. That should be easy. Steve had learned to work closely with the Howling Commandos, and he was already comfortable working with the other Avengers. However, adding two new members to the crew meant a lot of practice _collectively_. Meaning a lot of practice with the person that made him think things no symbol of American strength and purity ever should. Of course it was hand-to-hand combat, specifically, that had Steve wishing he could control the blood-flow to his dick, but, alas, he could not, and his traitorous compression rash-guard and perfectly draped gym shorts would not help in the matter.

What made matters worse was the fact that the kid only wore compression pants for their training sessions. Anything not skin tight and flaunting every _fucking_ beautiful curve and edge of their body would just get in the way, or catch fire. From friction. Because he could fucking move at the speed of light, or some shit. So there he was, the object of Steve’s very wet dreams (as of late), in tight, navy blue compression pants and matching shirt that clung to his body like a second skin. Pietro Maximoff was walking with his hands on his hips, slightly sweaty from running around the goddamn facility for the hundredth time that minute, dodging whatever non-lethal projectile Stark’s bots were aiming at him. However, now it was his turn to roll around with Steve, and the kid looked smug while Steve tried to not look absolutely terrified. And horny.

Watching him pant and smile, sparkling-white teeth, all glistening and beautiful, had made it difficult for Steve to keep his boner down. Now, watching as Pietro approached him, arms out wide in a taunt, his dick was making a valiant effort to solidify instantaneously despite threat of eternal mocking. There was no escape; Nat had taken Wanda to show her how to out-maneuver much larger opponents in the small chance that her all-powerful scarlet-sorcery was out of commission. That left Steve to work with Pietro on similar strategies, which would most definitely involve his body against the other’s bulky, yet _(so, so, so)_ tight, body. He was staring his literal doom directly in the great bone structure of his face.

“Okay, Captain,” that thickly-accented, smoothly sexual voice echoed in his ears, spilling from those illegally pouty lips as he walked even closer. “Time to show me how to take a big, strong man.” He finished his statement by raising a well-defined brow and smirking at, what must be, Steve’s bewildered and _that-went-straight-to-my-dick_ face.

Having learned to be slightly less awkward during his time in this century, Steve closed his mouth, having not realizing it had fallen open, and cleared his throat. Certainly the kid hadn’t meant to be so bold in his innuendoes. It _had_ to be a language barrier. Surely. “Uh, yeah, you know, in case you get in a situation you can’t just, um, zip your way out of,” Steve responded, waving a hand through the air in a poor attempt to mimic Pietro’s running. Luckily, his steady, authoritative Captain America voice saved him from sounding as anxious as he felt. He blamed air-flying space-whales and alien armies for the ability to keep his voice steady in the face of the unimaginable. In this case, the face of the unimaginably hot, bounce-a-quarter-off-that-ass teammate.

“I promise you, unless I can no longer use my legs, I will, as you say, _zip_ my way out of any situation.” Steve would love to show him a situation where he would lose the ability to use his legs. He might have imagined the wink, or he might not have, but it didn’t matter, because super-sonic hottie was now only a few feet away. “Don’t you remember? I managed to get away from you,” he finished, smirking hard and beautifully, his dark roots even darker from sweat along his hairline. Steve was alarmingly surprised by how attractive he found that silvery-white hair and dark roots, dark stubble and dark eyebrows, those black lashes framing icy blue eyes. He looked otherworldly, but Steve took solace in the fact that Pietro had a twin who could confirm that they were, indeed, human. Enhanced, but human, just like Steve. He guessed humanity really didn’t matter anymore at this point, but that was a different fantasy for a different day.

He was, of course, referring to the one time (okay, maybe two times) Pietro had straight-up clocked him in the face while running about like a rogue missile on a mission to emasculate every Avenger, besides Natasha, of course. Steve would never admit that getting the shit knocked out of him harder than he had since before the serum had given him an uncomfortable and unexpected semi almost immediately. It had been a revelation in more than one way. “Yeah, and one good hit slowed you down for a bit, didn’t it,” Steve responded, remembering, bitterly, ramming the kid bodily with the shield and knocking him down for a moment.

Pietro smiled, a fond type of grin reserved for nostalgic memories, rubbing his solar plexus as if he could still remember the sensation of vibranium powered by super-soldier might slamming into his torso. “Yes, it’s hard to forget the force of a blow that powerful, no?”

Steve blinked. Never realizing a combination of those words would ever make his dick twitch, but there he was, dick twitching with a smirking millennial in front of him. He shifted his feet, trying very hard to maneuver his dick into a less obvious position inside the compression shorts without the use of his hands, but he was failing. Instead, he looked like he had to piss like a racehorse. Not the look he was going for.

“So,” Pietro chimed up, clearly taking pity on Steve, even if it was unbeknownst to him he was doing such a thing. “What kind of kick-ass moves are you going to teach me?”

Steve sighed in relief. At least talking about tactics and fighting was something he could do without all the blood needed in his brain for other functions. “Right, so taking into account your speed, I think a better strategy for you would be defense and escape, not attack, necessarily,” he stated, doing his best to remember the moves he wanted to show the other man and not about how he could almost see the outline of Pietro’s dick-head through the compression pants.

Pietro, the little shit, legitimately pouted; sticking out his bottom lip and lowering his hands to his sides in a huff. “So no hitting anything?” he asked, giving Steve big puppy-dog eyes that made him want to feed his dick down the guy’s throat.

“I mean, throwing an elbow or a knee wouldn’t hurt,” Steve agreed, smirking at the eagerness to fight something. Hitting things was one of Steve’s hobbies, after all. “But the goal is for you to defend yourself and Steve McQueen your way out of the situation.” At first, Steve worried that maybe the name went over Pietro’s head, but his expression changed quickly to impressed realization.

“Hey, I understood that reference,” Pietro quipped, pointing at Steve and giving him a shit-eating grin. Steve sighed heavily, shoulders sagging at the realization that all of his old-man statements would out-live him. Clearly the kid was spending too much time with Tony. “But I am so much faster,” he added lifting his hands palms-up in a _really-bitch_ way.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve griped, setting his attention to the holographic control panel displayed by a quick gesture of his hand. He selected the false walls to enable a closed-off setting, which allowed him to dim the lights so that the two men were barely visible to each other and in their own semi-opaque, holographic box. “I’ve lowered the lights so I can sneak up on you. I hardly make any noise, but your reaction-time will disrupt the exercise.”

“Sure,” Pietro replied, and Steve could hear he had slightly moved. “How do you want me? Facing you, or do you want my back?”

With every fiber of his being, he wanted to hear those words out of that guy’s mouth sans clothing, but the tactician in him became acutely aware of the major error in that question. “The worst thing you could do is let me take you from behind.” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he even realized what he had said. He cursed himself for it, thankful that Pietro didn’t have enhanced vision to see his pained expression of pure mortification.

“I doubt that is the worst thing I could do,” Pietro argued, and Steve could see the sheen of his clothes hugging muscle in the lowered lighting. He could hear the smirk in the younger man’s voice, but he wouldn’t dwell on that implications of that, especially when another vital error in self-defense was so blatant.

“Yes it is, Pietro!” Steve retorted, pinching the bridge of his knows as if that could reduce his rational anxiety and ill-timed arousal. “You’re at a huge disadvantage if you give up your back.” He heard a snort from yet another corner of their faux-box, and he knew then and there that he was being played with. The problem was that he didn’t mind, and it did nothing to dampen his desire to dick down the man playing him like an over-sized action figure. Pietro couldn’t see him, but Steve glared at him anyways, leaning his head back in silent prayer to be able to keep his shit together long enough to get through this exercise without embarrassing himself further.

“It’s a joke, I understand, Cap,” the human lightning bolt laughed, slowly stepping closer to Steve with his hands behind his back. “So how does this work? Are you just coming for me, or am I making you work for it?” The accent, along with Pietro’s very purposeful emphasis on the final _t_ of his statement really did things to Steve.

And yes, Steve did want to come for him, and yes, he did want to have to work for it. But this was not the situation he was visualizing. Blinking rapidly a few times to reset his brain to normal fucking human functions, he cleared his throat before responding. “Um, the attack should take you by surprise.”

” _Oooh!”_ a high-pitched, exaggeratedly excited squeal emanated from the other man, and thanks to Steve’s super-eyes, he saw the full-body shiver ripple through Pietro’s well-formed body. He should have left right then. He should have known nothing good was going to come of making full-body contact with this guy in a setting that didn’t involve life-threatening, total-world-destroying scenarios. He should have known that little shit would be a little shit throughout the exercise. And he should have known his dick would be interested the _entire fucking time._ Steve even tried to think about something mundane like bald eagles to keep his dick as bay, but that only seemed to make him continue to swell against his will. At a later point he would have to talk to his therapist about why bald eagles got him hard, but for now he just blamed the serum for pumping him full of unrelenting patriotism.

Move after move, scenario after scenario, Steve had tried to maintain some modicum of professionalism, much to the dismay of his penis and Pietro’s antics. He nearly swore, _out loud_ , when he had wrestled Pietro down to the ground on his stomach. Steve had pressed himself against the other’s back, wrapping an arm around Pietro’s throat and squeezing just enough to hold the position, and the softest of moans escaped the kid’s lungs from the weight of super-soldier on top of him. Steve’s dick chose that time to make an interested twitch against the supple, firm ass below it. That situation cascaded into Steve to nearly squeeze Pietro’s head off, earning him an incredibly fast, reflexive elbow to the nose.

Steve rolled off just as he felt the tell-tale rush of pressure start to drip from both nostrils. He plugged his nose with his hand, standing just as he heard Pietro instruct JARVIS to bring the lights back up to a normal setting. Inevitably, blood had spattered on his shirt and was dripping into his mouth. Lovely. Pietro was only slightly coughing as he walked over to Steve with a rag that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, raising his hands to replace Steve’s bloody fingers with the cloth. Steve half-way wondered where he could hide a rag in that skin-tight outfit, and then he remembered he could move faster than Steve’s eyes could follow, so it probably came from the med-bay for all he knew.

Whenever he bled, there was always that shock on people’s faces, like they hadn’t been sure he actually could or not. It was one thing that always bothered him about his new self; the idea that he was more than human. He was still a man, a man that bled when hit hard enough, a man with wants and needs that didn’t fit into the picture of purity the mantel of Captain America forced upon him. All of those wants stood before him, body heat radiating, pressing a rag to his face while wearing a smirk for being the one behind the purpose. All that did was make him want harder, _get_ harder, desire rushing through him like a river of fire.

Pietro cleared his throat a few times as he checked to see if the bleeding had stopped, and Steve could tell it hadn’t when the cloth was unceremoniously shoved back onto his face. “Are you okay?” Steve asked, nasally and muffled by bloody rag. He couldn’t see any bruising around his throat, but he wasn’t sure about any internal strain.

The younger man swallowed thickly before plastering on an arrogant _are-you-serious_ expression. “I’m not the one who’s bleeding here.” He seemed to need a better angle and brought his free hand up to the back of Steve’s head to help apply the pressure better, bringing the two even closer.

“Um, I know,” Steve started, doing his best not to include a stutter in his still nasally voice. “It’s just, I know I accidentally choked you a little hard.”

“I would need to be choked much harder than that to tap out, so no worries, Cap,” he assured him, a coy but very obvious smirk on his lips. Steve knew his eyes opened wider, and he all but held his breath as he watched an enticingly pink tongue dark out at the corner of Pietro’s mouth. When Steve looked back up at those icy-blue eyes, he saw nothing but intent. So, naturally, Steve panicked.

“I, uh, I think we’re good for today,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice calm, thankful for the rag muffling his tone. He politely ducked out of Pietro’s hold, keeping the rag to his nose although he was sure the bleeding had stopped. At least he had a barrier to hide the blush he felt creeping along his cheeks. “You seem to be able to handle yourself under me, I mean, under attack pretty well, so,” Steve stopped himself before he could fuck up and embarrass himself further.

Pietro smiled wickedly at him, at the mistake, simply clasping his hands behind his back and tilting his chin up. “I should still probably get some practice in from time to time,” he stated, watching as Steve started to back away, adjusting the settings on their faux-box so they were entirely visible to Nat and Wanda again.

Steve help up his free hand, giving Pietro a thumbs up before high-tailing it towards the locker room on that floor. The two women looked at him concerned, but he waived them off, catching a glimpse of the sexy motherfucker behind him from over his shoulder, stretching his neck and looking more beautiful than any person should look after rolling around on the ground with Steve. He would say he was going soft, but that was _clearly_ not the case. He pulled the bloody rag away from his face and stared at the red stains on the white cloth. It looked like his shame and frustration, marring the perfect exterior of cohesion. He was going to have to have a stern conversation with his dick. It was getting in the way of exercise and team building and he couldn’t allow that organ to remain an uncooperative asshole.

⭐🇺🇲⭐🇺🇲⭐🇺🇲⭐

Steve had a perfectly good shower on his floor in the Tower. It was huge; it could easily fit four people of his size (now, that’s a thought) in it, and it was a walk-in, which had to be his favorite thing about this century. Well, that and all the flavors that Krispy Kreme now had (and he would never discuss the ability to order three dozen donuts, all different varieties, and stuff them in the saddle bags of his Harley to eat within twenty minutes of walking back onto his floor).

His luxury-sized shower on his _own_ floor would be a wise choice for post work-out cleansing, but that meant he would have to use his own 3-in-1 shampoo, face, and body wash. Which was a bar soap. Because he was, in fact, in his 90s, and he figured acting his age in some ways was acceptable. The locker room showers on the training floor were slightly smaller, a little cozier, and came fully stocked with shampoo, conditioner, facial cleaner, and body wash in convenient pump dispensers on the wall. All things Steve would never buy for himself, even with all the Army back-pay he had and, you know, Stark/Avenger money. Using his own soap meant going back out to the store to buy more when he couldn’t rub the sliver over his body with any dignity anymore.

It was, by no means, a private affair to shower in the locker rooms, but each shower was its own stall. Its own walk-in closet-sized space. Steve was expecting to clean the sweat and blood off his body with overly expensive and boujee Stark locker room toiletries. He also expected to, more than likely, relieve himself of all the tension built up by rolling around with the star of his homoerotic dreams for the past hour. So color him surprised when a whoosh of cool air conjured up a dry, naked millennial in his shower stall. He was just as surprised to find that his first reaction was to make an undignified yelp and throw himself into the corner of the stall, trying to hide his massive body behind his massive arms like some wet, pornographic version of the cowardly lion. He had expected himself to, at the very least, come off a little manlier when ambushed in the nude.

The dry, slowly dampening, Pietro looked as if his presence was the most normal thing there was, and he couldn’t help himself from taking in the complete eye-full of Steve’s naked form in the steamy stall. He also couldn’t help from noticing the way Steve had not managed to cover his most valuable weapon, leaving the _thing_ just out and half-hard for the two of them to acknowledge. Steve’s brain came back online from being startled into a buffer and he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realized his hardening cock pointing towards Pietro like he was some beacon of _put-it-in-me_ that his dick responded to, so he lowered his hands and covered the persistent bastard dangling between his legs.

Pietro watched as he covered himself, a small pout forming on his lips while his eyes looked amused as they made their way back up to Steve’s petrified glare. “Well, at least _he_ didn’t seem so frightened to see me,” Pietro muttered, trying to spare another glance at Steve’s currently concealed cock.

Steve could feel color rushing to his cheeks and his chest. Damn his Irish heritage for making him turn an alarming shade of pink when flustered. “Um… Why?” he managed, forgetting the rest of the _are you in my shower?_ , proud of himself for even that minimal usage of the English language. He could hardly think straight with Pietro standing before him, naked, one palm covering his goods. Steve had to physically hold back a groan at the way he could see a dark thatch of hair barely sticking out from behind a pale hand. The contrast was startling… and oh so fucking hot. He reminded himself that there was an _actual_ man standing in front of him and not just a vivid vision of his erotic imagination, so he shot his eyes back up, glued to the smirking features of a stunning person who should _not_ be in his shower.

“My speed makes me pretty good at catching facial expressions most people can’t see,” the younger man started, taking one step closer to Steve, looking about as smug as the cat that got the cream, while the other cats sat back and watched. “And I’ve seen the way you look at me. The same way you look at those 72 oz. steaks Stark orders special for you.”

Steve was suddenly, and alarmingly, thinking of meat. Large quantities of meat, but not of the bovine kind. More the tall, fast, and Sokovian kind. His lizard-brain had just begun to consider how good grill-marks would look on Pietro’s ass before his practical, American-icon self kicked in. His eyes traveled up from where they had been staring the lines forming the V of Pietro’s hips back to his eyes, but Steve played it cool. He had over 60 years of being _cool_ under his star-spangled belt.

When Steve had done nothing more but continue to gape his mouth and stay huddled in the corner, Pietro continued to speak for them. “And I feel I’ve tried to show you that I think of you the same way.”

Steve cleared his throat, watching as the other man tilted his head, making himself even more alluring, if that were possible. “What way is that?” he asked, voice shaking slightly, a little breathier than he would have liked.

“Like I want to taste you,” he started, closing the distance between him and Steve until their knuckles brushed down where they were trying to feign modesty. “Like I want to get you inside me.” At that, Steve closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Willing his body to stay back and not pounce on the kid like an actual lion to prey. “Does that sound alright?” The question was nothing more than a whisper, but was heard closer, felt against Steve’s lips. Something fleshy lightly bumped along Steve’s nose, and he imagined it was Pietro’s nose, their lips kept apart by a shared breath of air.

He wanted to answer, but the only sound that escaped Steve’s tightly pursed lips was a strangled grunt of something resembling an agreement. He kept his eyes closed and could feel the brush of Pietro’s breath against the front of his face, only minutely different from the bellow of warm steam from the shower. Rhythmic, slightly minty. “Tell me to leave, and I leave. Nothing more to it,” the younger man shared, and Steve felt the knuckles disappear from where they were touching his own, and he knew that Pietro’s bare cock was right there, within reach. A tempting offer, a treaty to either sign or discard.

The serum enhanced all of Steve’s senses, including his libido. Including his dick’s ability to go from a respectable placid to a raging cannon of liberty in all of about 0.3 seconds. When that much blood rushed from your head down to your interested dick, intellectual thinking could not be expected, serum be damned. “Um…,” he barely managed, eyes still closed, breath more shallow, thoughts coming a mile a minutes, all demanding to take the proffered meat and gorge himself.

“Do you want me to leave?” and that question hit differently than the others. Steve could feel the words against his face, seeping in through his mouth, his nose, his eyes; traveling down through his body, warming it and seizing his spine in an unsaid ultimatum.

The soldier in him responded. _Act now or miss out. Act now or lose_. And Steve hated to lose. “God, no,” he sighed, opening his eyes to just barely catch Pietro leaning in the few inches left between them and planting his lips on Steve’s. It was soft, but far from chaste; lips surrounding lips, a tongue pressing against the seam of Steve’s mouth, demanding entrance, seeking surrender.

Steve gave it. He gave in to the slightly smaller man, letting his warm tongue slide into his mouth, curl behind his teeth, claiming new territory. He let himself uncurl from the defensive position against the shower wall, arms still unsure, dangling by his side, tense with the urge to touch. As if his uncertainty had been expressed with words, Pietro’s hands wrapped around Steve’s wrists, squeezing before pulling them to rest low on his waist, Steve’s thumbs pressing the lines along his hips.

A startled, cut-off moan was fed into Pietro’s mouth as he grasped the back of Steve’s neck, one hand traveling higher to tug at the hair to angle his head up, exposing his throat. The younger man licked and laved at the thick column of Steve’s neck, the ultra-strong thump of his pulse against Pietro’s tongue almost made him taste iron. Pietro sucked at the skin, pulling back to watch the red mark disappear within seconds. He moaned, going back in and really putting his suckling muscles to work, letting his teeth aid in his attempt to mark perfect skin, if even for a few moments. Steve didn’t seem to mind, if the animalistic rut of his hips had anything to say about it.

Steve had gained some confidence, some security, with what was happening, and his hands had traveled from slender hips up Pietro’s back, one large hand splayed between his shoulder blades, the other grasping the top of his shoulder. Even with all his strength, Steve was not in control of the situation. That was made _blatantly_ clear by Pietro’s demanding grip in his hair and teeth set into his neck. Hands were sliding down Steve’s neck, roughly grabbing at his chest as his bottom lip was sucked and bit; a sharp, piercing pain that turned into a tingle at the tip of his dick.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Pietro growled, dragging his mouth down to sink his teeth into the ample meat of Steve’s chest. The larger man keened into the sensation, hips rolling forward and jaw clenched tight. “I want you in my mouth.” Before Steve could whine out a _yes, please_ , Pietro was falling to his knees like a lead weight. A sexy, cock-sucking lead weight. It felt like an eternity, watching the younger man admire Steve’s dick, just staring at it as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, before he mercifully wrapped a hand around the base. Steve groaned, having not had another hand on his dick in _way too long_ (actually, he hadn’t had someone else’s _anything_ on or around his dick in way too long).

Pietro smirked, biting his lip and giving Steve the best _fucking ruin me_ fuck-me eyes the nonagenarian had ever seen in his life. Then those fuck-me eyes fell to his incredibly erect cock, and Steve exhaled loudly when Pietro licked his lips and, maintaining eye contact, opened that mouth of his and impaled his face on the dick before him. A few whispered curses flew out of Steve’s mouth, along with multiple gasps as the younger man just _kept fucking going_ down his dick until every glorious inch was swallowed. He managed to smirk, lips stretched tight around Steve’s girth, and moaned wantonly before grabbing Steve’s hips and forcing himself even farther, nose pressed roughly against Steve’s pelvis. 

Steve tried to keep looking, he really did, but the feeling of Pietro swallowing around him forced his head back, and the resulting sound was definitely tile cracking. The tile could wait, there were more pressing matters, like Steve’s cock pressing into the back of Pietro’s throat. Steve was seriously beginning to feel concerned for Pietro’s lack of oxygen, but then that wet mouth started to pull back, feeling like a hot vacuum and releasing with a loud _pop_. He groaned something in Sokovian, eyes rolling back in his skull before glaring up at Steve with fierce determination. The kind of look one gives a dessert after a huge meal. The kind of look that says _you will be getting inside me_.

Like the completely oblivious tank of flesh that he was, Steve just gaped at him, halfway between begging him to continue and apologizing for his inability to do much more than keep himself standing. Luckily, Pietro seemed completely capable of handling the situation and shoved Steve’s hips back, ass smacking against the tile, before assaulting his cock with his face. That time, Steve was prepared for such an attack and took appropriate measures to ensure success for his side of the encounter (and yes, discussing sex in terms of war tactics _was_ something he was talking to his therapist about, but they established it wasn’t detrimental to his mental health to do so).

His entire body was buzzing; he was the power grid for the entire city, his dick was the main generator, sparking and lighting up his entire being. One stupidly big hand was buried in Pietro’s curls, not so much guiding him as it was like holding on to a buoy in open water. He could feel his knees begin to buckle the closer he got to fucking exploding down Pietro’s throat. He lifted his arms, hands scrambling against wet tile, just looking for fucking something to hold on to so he didn’t fall. He refused to go down like a goddamn Life Alert commercial in the shower, with a beautiful guy sucking his cock as if his balls had the last drops of water left on Earth in them. He would _not_ give Tony Stark the satisfaction of predicting his demise.

Pietro released Steve’s cock with a loud _pop_ , nuzzling his face against it, letting the length rub around his face, tracing his features. Steve groaned softly, never having been one to be incredibly loud or vocal, but this kid was coming close to changing that. “It’s so perfect,” he whispered, loud enough for only Steve’s ears, grabbing the base to trace the outline of his pursed lips. “Feel it stretch my throat?” he asked, and all Steve could do was nod and swallow, gasping as if he’d been held under water. He watched Pietro lick every inch of his cock as if it were a melting Popsicle; not letting a single drop go to waste. “Wonder where else it could stretch,” he suggested, swallowing Steve’s dick whole, his tongue sticking out to lick at his balls.

Steve’s head flew back again, resulting in another crack he didn’t care about. His hands twitched wildly in the air as he gasped for breath until one landed on top of Pietro’s head and the other grasped the shower head above him. “Oh God, oh God, oh _God,_ ” he chanted, biting his lower lip until painful. Pietro hummed in approval, bobbing his head in slow, languid strokes, slurping water and saliva around Steve’s cock, making it sound obscene. Steve groaned deeply when Pietro clawed at the sensitive skin at his hips, leaving scratches that would disappear in seconds.

Pietro watched Steve as he took him apart; suck by suck, lick by lick. It was better than his thoughts had conjured at night when he was alone, thinking about obliterating Steve’s sense of sanity by riding him until he broke something, but letting _Steve_ break something on him. Steve’s dick was better than he had imagined, too, which was a fucking bonus. It was long, but the girth was what made the beast intimidating. The ache in his throat as he tried to shove it into his trachea made his eyes roll back. Imagining it stretch his ass to its limit, filling him up, feeling it in his fucking _stomach_ … now that made him harder than should be legal. Just like the man in front of him; god-like in a way that should be illegal due to its sacrilege. Steve Rogers could make the most devout person question their religion, for if science could create _all of that_ , what the hell was their God doing?

He let his hands move back towards Steve’s ass, digging his nails into ample flesh and muscle, pulling him more into his mouth, gagging deliciously around the intrusion. Pietro moaned, and that earned him a sharp tug on his hair, pulling him off his new favorite hobby. Breathing hard, Steve leaned down, bending slightly at the knee to shove his tongue into Pietro’s mouth, teeth clashing on teeth, implying the possibility of a split lip. He was kissed harder than he ever had been before, and the hand in his hair cupped his cheek, Steve’s thumb pressing against his lower lip as he pulled away. He pulled Steve’s thumb into his mouth by the teeth, pressing his tongue against the pad, trying to stamp the fingerprint onto wet muscle.

Steve gasped as blunt, white teeth dug into the first knuckle on his thumb, followed by the feel of warm, wet slide against the tip. He pressed into that softness, fingers falling down to grasp under a lightly stubbled chin. He was fucking beautiful, even more so with his pink lips swollen from being wrapped around Steve’s cock. Boy looked great with a dick in his mouth, eyes sparkling with want and effort. Unable to ignore his dick’s cry for more of that mouth, Steve tangled his fingers in Pietro’s hair before guiding his face back down onto his length, biting his lip as inch after inch disappeared and blue eyes try to shut from choking.

He was so close, almost embarrassingly so. He would have been if the kid hadn’t sucked dick like it was the best goddamn thing on the planet. Like he was going to win a prize for his efforts. The constant bobbing and vacuum-chamber tightness of heat made it impossible to stop the shorts thrusts his hips were making. Every choked-off groan from Steve’s cock pressing into the soft tissue Pietro’s oropharynx drove him closer and closer to impending relief. Who could blame him? Pretty sight, pretty sounds, glorious sensation? He was a goner before Pietro had fallen to his knees.

Both man and metal groaned under his grasp as Steve relaxed his jaw, his orgasm pushing all the air out of his lungs in a violent exhalation. He raised up on his toes, Pietro adjusting his position on his knees, ensuring he kept as much of Steve’s cock in his mouth and throat as possible, letting streams of hot cum literally spill down his throat, burst after burst. Steve moaned, the hand on Pietro’s head trying not to break the skull under it, while the hand grabbing the showerhead tightened and pulled. It happened before he could gain control over his arm, one sharp tug and the showerhead was ripped from the tiled wall, a good foot (30 cm) of piping coming with it. The stall was immediately sprayed with excessive amounts of water, but Steve could still not see straight, and Pietro didn’t seem to give one flying fuck about anything but swallowing.

Steve moaned loudly, the sound ending in a rough growl as Pietro released Steve’s cock, running his tongue along the full length, flicking the tip in a final attempt to lap up every last drop. Steve made a punched-out noise as a lone spurt of cum landed on Pietro’s lips. And if _that_ didn’t make him want to throw the kid to the ground and fuck him into the next dimension. As Pietro stood, Steve was vaguely aware that he was holding the showerhead and pipe loosely in one hand while water sprayed them relentlessly from the fissure in the wall. Pietro licked his lips clean before leaning forward and giving Steve a filthy kiss, sharing the earthy saltiness left on his tongue. Steve’s lips were still puckered when he felt a gust of cold air and was alone in the stall once again. JARVIS was busy alerting the entire fucking Tower of the water leak situation, but Steve was still left reeling from the best fucking head he’d received in the past two centuries. He steadied himself, willing his super-dick to just fucking take the orgasm and leave him alone so he could get dressed before anyone else ambushed him while naked. Not to mention flushed from the post-orgasmic rush of oxytocin and adrenaline, times ten, because _SUPER-SOLDIER_.

\--2--

Steve was on cloud nine. Or, pretty close to it, anyway. There hadn’t been any world-ending disasters that week, the Italian sub shop down the street had a buy one-get one sale going on for subs, and buy one-get _three_ for cookies, and he had gotten sucked off by the star of his nighttime-sexytime dreams just two days prior. He was fucking _whistling_ on his way back up to his floor in the Tower after getting six 12-inch (30 cm) chicken parmesan sandwiches, with meatballs added, and four bags of cookies, four cookies each. He got every flavor they offered (and he was hiding the canolli, thinking that that might be just too much for the public to handle). 

The elevator ride up to his floor was entirely uneventful. He smiled at one of the many Stark employees that had access to the elevators, and the poor thing did her best to not swoon by gripping the handrail until her knuckles turned white. She was cute, sure, but she wasn’t nearly six feet (182 cm) of solid muscle that could run around the world faster than Steve could say _yes, please come fuck my dick with your face again, thank you kindly._ God, the last two days had been a creative nightmare for Steve as he thought about all the ways that speed could be implemented in ways that involved them both naked and, preferably, connected in some form or fashion. Luckily, Steve hadn’t had to play it cool and casual in the Tower. He hadn’t seen Pietro since their shower encounter (as he was calling it, and he was equally grateful that Tony had bought the story that he was simply trying to adjust the showerhead and that’s how he accidentally ripped it from the wall), so he had missed running into him and making a colossal fool of himself in front of God and everyone else.

Whistling and balancing his assortment of tasty treats in one hand, he bounced off the elevator with a spring in his step, opening the door to his quarters without a care in the world. He had managed to lock the door behind him before looking up to see that he was not alone in his living space, and his whistling turned into an undignified yelp as he flung the entirety of his lunch across the room to _surely_ go through the large windows on the opposite side. The “intruder” vanished from Steve’s sight as he waited for yet another accident involving structural integrity to happen, but it never came. Instead, after a few cool bursts of air followed by blue static sparks, all of his delicious sandwiches and cookies were in the well-defined arms of the male Maximoff twin. And, _oh,_ all but one sandwich bag was in his arms, the remaining sandwich was nestled tightly between his fucking beautiful, pouty lips and teeth.

Steve put his hands on his hips to keep from clutching his chest, like some actress from his original era portraying a bout of “the vapors”, as he caught his breath. Pietro just stood there, arms bundled with food, mouth full, eyes wide and eyebrows lifted in some sort of silent _TADA!_ It was both literally and metaphorically a breathtaking surprise. The younger man stood there, laughter muffled by the meat-and-bread-package in his mouth, as Steve stalked over to him, doing his best to look completely put-out by the situation. Steve grabbed each greasy, paper-wrapped parcel and placed them delicately into the crook of his arm, leaving the sandwich in Pietro’s mouth for last. He grabbed it and pulled, but it wouldn’t come free from its pearly prison. Having been avoiding eye contact on purpose, Steve looked up to see the completely amused gleam in the other’s eyes, holding on to the sandwich like a dog would to a tasty bone. Steve narrowed his eyes, giving him his best Drop It or Die look, to which he was met with the most adorable chuckle any man could produce, sandwich dropping into Steve’s awaiting hand.

He made a slight dip with his head, a nod to say _yeah, thought so_ , to Pietro’s defiant show. The younger man scrunched his nose before flashing a brilliant smile, and it took all of Steve’s enhanced strength to not drop his bounty and shove his tongue into that pretty mouth.

“I hope you weren’t expected company,” Pietro lolled, watching Steve walk over to the kitchen and place all of the food down onto the counter.

“Nope, definitely planned on being alone,” Steve answered, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest. He finally allowed himself to really get a look at the other man. He was wearing his quintessential track pants (definitely some Russian influence there) and a tight, black t-shirt, which looked absolutely sinful on him. He noticed the [Kwik-E-Mart](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/A13usaonutL._AC_CLa%7C2140%2C2000%7C51FrRyexbkL.png%7C0%2C0%2C2140%2C2000%2B0.0%2C0.0%2C2140.0%2C2000.0_UX522_.png) logo on the front, remembering it from when Tony gifted it to Pietro not long after he and Wanda had moved into the Tower. Tony had laughed hysterically when explaining the pun behind it, saying that it fit into Pietro’s “delightfully slutty personality”, as well as his, you know, “’kwik-ness’”. Steve was only 65% sure he understood that reference, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating the way it looked on him.

“So all this is for you?” Pietro asked, one hand motioning towards the entire meal-for-six on the counter next to Steve. He definitely didn’t look put-off by the sheer quantity of food, if anything, he seemed impressed.

“Um, yes?” Steve responded, tone raising to sound like it ended in a question. There really was no point to that. Of course this was all for him. He watched the younger man start to walk towards him, taking slow, long strides, arms behind his back, stretching his shoulders and chest in that too-tight shirt _deliciously_.

“That’s hot,” Pietro drawled, tilting his head back and licking his lips. All a show. “Big man needs a big meal, hm?” The closer he got, the more Steve backed up into his kitchen. Flashbacks of the Shower Incident popped up in his head; cracked tile, spraying water, and cumming down a constricting throat.

“Something like that,” Steve stammered, laughing nervously and almost tripping before his tailbone bumped into the counter behind him. He had nowhere else to back into, and the sex-on-two-fast-legs was inching closer. Honestly, it wasn’t like Steve wanted to be anywhere other than where he was, but he was caught unprepared. Again.

Once he was close enough, almost hip-to-hip, Pietro held eye-contact while reaching around Steve and blindly searching through one of the various bags there. One side of his mouth quirked up as he brought forth Steve’s secret canolli between their faces. “Here. Have a snack,” he suggested quietly, although not any less assertively. With military obedience, Steve reached out and grabbed the phallic-shaped treat, holding it exactly where Pietro had held it. The shorter man’s eyes flickered between Steve’s and the canolli before he leaned forward, off to the side, one hand coming up to start pushing Steve’s treat-filled hand towards his mouth. “Wouldn’t want you getting peckish while fucking me through your headboard,” he said softly, lips ghosting over Steve’s neck, tongue poking out to paint wet marks on goose-bumped skin.

“ _Oh,_ ” was the only response Steve was able to make as Pietro kept gently pushing the canolli towards his mouth. He pulled away from his neck to watch Steve take a tentative bite, the shell crunching and cracking, splitting into pieces right outside of his lips, thick cream filling his mouth. Pietro’s mouth opened, his tongue sliding along his top row of teeth, inhaling a breath as he watched.

Normally, Steve didn’t like being watched while he ate. The sheer amount made him feel uncomfortable, no matter how many people seemed to “understand” once they realized who he was. However, Pietro watched him with rapt fascination, and even seemed excited by the act. It could also be the shape of the snack. The white of the cream at the corners of his mouth, looking like another type of _treat_. Steve took another bite as Pietro slid his hands down Steve’s chest and stomach, groaning softly to himself and dipping the tips of his fingers behind the top of his jeans.

Losing himself in the sensation, Steve kept eating the canolli, taking another bite as Pietro started mouthing at his chest through the thin material of his shirt. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose, pausing his jaw’s efforts to chew and not choke himself on crunchy, creamy goodness. That was easier said than done whilst Pietro tried to suffocate himself in Steve’s chest. He pulled back long enough to give Steve the _filthiest_ look before he started lowering himself to his knees, fingers gliding under the front of Steve’s shirt, nails scratching at defined, thick muscle.

In total autopilot, Steve fed himself another bite, eyes wide as his belt was being undone and pulled from his pants like it had offended the kneeling man. His jaw was moving like a cow grazing on pasture; slow, sloppy masticating motions of a man slowly losing his faculties to a guy with white hair (the answer to whether that was dyed or a result of his enhancement had yet to be determined; Tony started a betting pool on it). Instead of unbuttoning Steve’s pants, Pietro simply continued to rub his beautiful face all over the hardening crotch. Steve was helpless against the onslaught. They made eye-contact just as Pietro lightly bit along the side of Steve’s dick through the denim, earning him a startled yelp.

“I want you to fuck my ass through your mattress,” Pietro stated as if he were ordering food, making Steve actually choke on his last bite of rich canolli. “Can you do that for me?” He reached up and grabbed Steve’s hand, the one with powdered sugar and cream on the fingers, and proceeded to lick every thick digit clean. Steve moaned around his mouthful of cream and cookie shell, eyes rolling back as he trusted the counter to hold his weight, pressing back into it when his knees buckled. He found it unbelievably hot that the kid could sound so assertive while rubbing his face on his crotch like a touch-starved kitten

“Ohf gah,” he mumbled, throat working hard to swallow everything so he could speak without sounding like a complete idiot. “Yeah, yes I can do that,” he breathed out shakily, bracing his hands on the counter behind his back once Pietro dropped his hand. It seemed his agreement was all the other needed to get his dick out as the kid hastily undid Steve’s jeans and unceremoniously pulled them and his underwear down to mid-thigh. His dick sprang free, a flagstaff swaying in the wind, and he didn’t have time to enjoy the feel of cool air on heated skin before Pietro, like magic, made the impressive size completely disappear into the black hat of his mouth. He stayed there for a moment, just staring up at a gasping Steve clinging to a kitchen counter, and smirked around a mouthful of cock, nose pressing into coarse hair.

That was the last moment of reprieve for Steve. The last moment he had any control over his dick and his ridiculous libido. In a blur of motion and blue static, an immeasurable amount of sensation coursed through Steve’s body and before he could even grasp what was happening, he felt an orgasm tear itself out of the tip of his dick, leaving him slumping against his hold on the counter. Pietro had turned himself into some cocaine-fueled woodpecker and had, quite literally, pecked away at Steve’s wood at lightning speed. The movements slowed enough for Steve’s eyes to register Pietro’s face still attached his pelvis and he looked down at him, eyes wide in utter shock, embarrassment, and relief of sweet, sweet release. He probably looked like someone whose defense mechanism for shock was swift ejaculation. He loosely remembered sounding like someone trying to hold an off-key note while jogging downhill for the entire five seconds of whatever the hell just happened.

“You didn’t see that coming?” Pietro, the little shit, asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat once he popped off Steve’s still-hard cock with a cartoonish _slurp_ sound. He stroked the length a few times, watching in awe as Steve hissed, but never once showed any sign of losing rigidity.

“Oh, shit,” Steve huffed out, still trying to catch his breath, no longer embarrassed because, well, being able to suck dick at Mach 2 speed was just _not fair_. He couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that escaped his chest as Pietro just kept slowly stroking his dick. Yeah, he could go through that again, but he appreciated savoring a moment more. However, Steve now knew the appeal of a surprise orgasm.

Pietro hummed some sort of approval, impatiently pushing at the hem of Steve’s shirt with one hand while the other started to yank his jeans and underwear further down his legs. “Take this off,” he ordered, letting Steve take over shirt removal and he continued to pull and yank at Steve’s legs until he was tossing clothes over his shoulder without a care. Steve lifted each foot one at a time as Pietro aggressively took his shoes and socks off. Eagerly, Steve threw his t-shirt to the side and watched as Pietro slowly started mouthing his way up his body, starting at his hips and taking his sweet time at his stomach. “ _Fuck,_ every part of you is a mouthful,” he groaned, rubbing his hands along Steve’s abs, feeling the definition and sheer strength beneath smooth skin. He opened his mouth and bit the swell of an ab muscle, tongue pressing against it and making Steve clench at the sensation.

Steve could feel his cheeks flush, his chest turning pink under the praise. He knew how he looked now, but he still wasn’t really used to it. Not that he was complaining. His body helped him save people, and it got him some pretty good ass, so yeah. No complaints. He was very aware of his completely nude state compared to Pietro’s very clothed one, but it didn’t seem that the younger man was done with him yet. Ah, yes, they weren’t nearly done. He had been requested to fuck him through the bed. _Oh, the hardship_.

After spending a fair amount of time mouthing as Steve’s chest, again, Pietro shot up and attacked his mouth, shoving his tongue in as far as he could, letting Steve taste himself on his tongue. Steve’s hands finally left the counter and gripped Pietro’s hips, pressing their bodies together, feeling the hard length of Pietro’s clothed cock against his naked hip. They moaned into each other’s mouths, rutting against each other frantically. Steve’s nerves were alight, and he was anxious to get his hands and mouth (and dick) on every inch of Pietro’s body. He hadn’t been granted that pleasure yet, and he was _so fucking hard_ for that to happen. Like, right then.

Steve’s hand lowered to Pietro’s wonderfully supple ass and grabbed all that flesh and muscle in his large hands, squeezing and kneading it like giant mounds of dough. Fuck, he loved bread. Pietro gasped, laughing lightly as his face fell into a delightful smile, biting his lips and nudging his nose on Steve’s. “You have super-soldier recovery, yes?” he asked, his accent thicker and voice airier. It was beautiful.

“Um… yes?” Steve replied, not entirely sure what he meant by that question. His hands stilled and he stared at the other man with his head slightly cocked to the side. Adorably confused.

Pietro rolled his eyes, keeping the small smile on his face. “How many times can you cum before you can’t anymore?”

Oh. _Oh._ That kind of recovery. Oh. That was an easy question. “I stopped counting at eight,” Steve replied flatly, as serious as the presidential faces on Mount Rushmore. Steve tilted his head back a little, taking in Pietro’s glittering eyes as he raised a brow, impressed.

“Excellent,” he responded before wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and hopping up. Thankfully Steve had quick reflexes and was able to push himself away from the counter and catch Pietro, hands on his ass, letting him wrap his legs around his waist. “Time to fuck the shit out of me,” he stated, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip and pointing towards the hallway leading to where the bedroom was.

He didn’t have to tell Steve twice.

Steve walked them towards his bedroom, easily holding Pietro in his arms, happily gripping his ass to keep him lifted. Pietro kissed him the entire way, licking his way into his mouth with the kind of fervor and enthusiasm Steve could respect. When they got to the door, Steve moved to shift the man in his arms to reach for the nob, but Pietro was one step ahead of him and reached down, twisting the nob and shoving the door open before going back to running his tongue on Steve’s neck. Team work makes the dream work. Steve shuddered, his neck was one of his favorite places to have a mouth, only second to his dick, and he gasped when teeth scraped along the tendon there. When he reached the bed, he peeled Pietro off of him and threw him to the mattress, watching that lithe form bounce as he giggled, but, like, a very manly giggle.

Pietro made quick work of his shirt, managing to not tear the tight material as he pulled it over his head and started to wiggle his hips and push his track pants down. Steve bent down and pulled off his shoes and socks for him, mouth falling open as the realization Pietro had not been wearing underwear. He was a confident little shit. Well, when you looked like that, you could be a confident little shit and not wear underwear because you knew it wouldn’t take much to convince Steve to fuck you.

Steve shamelessly stared at the now naked Pietro on his bed. He was that gorgeous cool-toned pale; blue and silver undertones that made him glow like the moon at twilight. The artist in Steve thought about all the colors he could mix in paint to make up the other man’s complexion, while the primal caveman in him wanted to mark up the pale canvas currently waiting to be taken apart. Blot him with pink and red, mottle him with black and blue. Turn all that porcelain perfection into a walking piece of performance art screaming _Steve Rogers was Here_.

He was taken out of his running imagination by Pietro reaching up and grabbing Steve’s arm, pulling him down to land on top of him on the bed. He released a shuddering breath when he was finally granted skin-on-skin; warm, smooth flesh gliding over warm smooth flesh. It was one of his favorite things, just total body contact with another naked body. He granted himself a few moments of grinding and grasping, mouth on mouth, mouth on neck. But he really wanted his mouth other places. Steve kissed his way down Pietro’s body, taking care to pay extra attention to the area just below his pecs, because that gave him the most gasps. He slid down until he was kneeling on the ground between the other’s legs, arms outstretched and holding on to Pietro’s biceps as he nosed along his hips.

There was nothing shy about him. He happily opened his legs wider, giving Steve’s ridiculously broad shoulders enough room to fit between his thighs. Pietro watched as America’s mantel for all things virtuous and just rubbed his perfect face all over his cock and balls. It was almost too much, the tease of it, to have his mouth so close to just sucking him down but not actually doing it. He rotated his hips, chasing that pink mouth to no avail. Steve could just hold him down like this, never give him what he wanted. The thought was both thrilling to no end, as well as frustrating. He didn’t have to wait much longer because Steve gave him a very pointed look, almost smug, and then licked a long, wide stripe up his dick.

Pietro bit his lips, staring at Steve lick him slowly, not leaving a centimeter of uncut skin untouched. It wasn’t until Steve swirled his tongue around the tip and then sucked him down did Pietro let his eyes flutter shut and head fall to the bed. He moaned softly, legs squeezing solid shoulders as his cock was sucked languidly, but with the strength of a fucking hoover vacuum. He wasn’t as big as Steve, but he had a respectable package, which was perfect, because Steve had not acquired the zero gag-reflex necessary to disappear a cock down his throat like Pietro could. Which was fine. Steve had other oral skills he could utilize. But first, try his damnedest to suck the life out of the kid.

He bobbed up and down, slowly but not lazily. He kept Pietro’s arms pinned down, which he felt was the best call if the way his hips were writhing about said anything for what free arms would do. Pietro’s nails dug into the skin of his forearms and it was the perfect distraction to keep him from humping the side of the bed into his next orgasm. Little known fact: Steve was an animal. Sue him. Something he really appreciated was that Pietro made sure his face was always in Steve’s sight. He loved being able to see what he was doing to his partner, and going by the glorious lip biting and eye rolling, he was doing it right.

Steve wasn’t a virgin, and he wasn’t unfamiliar with having sex with men. He _was_ unfamiliar with having sex with 21st century men _in_ the 21st century, where you didn’t have to make it as quick and as quiet as possible. Where you had actual videos to learn from. Said videos were where he learned the fine art of eating ass, and his dick had never been the same. No one would ever believe that the altruistic and dignified Captain America loved having his face buried in someone’s ass just as much as he loved beating the shit out of ‘bad guys’, but he did. He had dreamed of having Pietro like this: on his back, legs splayed, ass up and ready to be devoured. He had almost pictured him on all fours, as well as riding his face for hours.

He let Pietro’s rigid cock fall from his mouth as he adjusted his legs over her shoulders. Pietro gasped and groaned, wiggling his hips to really get his thighs up there, as if he knew where Steve was going with the position change. Licking his lips and mentally preparing himself for a spiritual awakening, Steve licked and kissed his way over Pietro’s balls, sucking at the delicate skin as he lifted Pietro’s hips up off the bed, propping his elbows on the bed so that the younger man’s ass was directly mouth level. He could feel Pietro squirming on the bed, trying to move to get an angle to see what Steve was doing. He felt for him, he really did, and Steve would gladly provide a better angle for him, soon. First, he really needed to get his tongue _in there_.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Pietro moaned as Steve’s tongue slid along the smooth skin of his perineum. The soft, pleased little sounds Steve kept making were like music to Pietro’s ears. Nothing was better than having someone thoroughly enjoy eating you out. Nothing. Well, besides having someone capable of plowing you into next week. Which, hello, Captain fucking America surely could. Hopefully. When hot, wet muscle _finally_ made contact with his furled hole, he cussed loudly in his mother-tongue, having no time to spit out such pleasantries in English. Steve could read into that properly. Take it for the compliment it was. He couldn’t stop the litany of moans and gasps falling from his lips. Never before had a tongue gotten so far up in him, but what had he expected? Steve fucking Rogers, apparently, knew what he was doing. God bless America.

“Oh my god,” Steve murmured to himself, lips just barely off of the spit-slick hole his tongue had been prodding. It was a beautiful thing, feeling that thick, tight ring of muscle start to give for him. There was so much he wanted to do to Pietro that didn’t even involve his dick. _That_ was an entirely different, very long list. For now, he focused on moving Pietro’s hips up and down, essentially using the other man’s body to fuck itself on his tongue. He was getting the best noises and curses out of him, too. That was more than half the fun. He took mercy and lowered Pietro’s hips down to the bed, pressing his legs back with his hand against Pietro’s hamstrings. He felt no resistance, so he kept pushing until the younger man’s knees were touching the bed on either side of his torso. That gave Steve the best view of the entire package, which gave Pietro a pretty great view of Steve’s face between his legs, too. Steve was able to go the fuck to town on his ass while holding eye-contact, and getting a hand in his hair in the process.

“You’re so fucking good at that,” Pietro groaned just as Steve curled his tongue inside his ass and tugged at his rim. Pietro moved both hands to the bend of his knees, holding his legs back for Steve. The larger man moved his hands down to the globes of Pietro’s ass, pulling him apart as wide as he could before shaking his head, tongue pressing flat and covering more ground. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_ he exclaimed, throwing his head back just for a second. He didn’t want to miss a second of Steve Roger’s face while literally devouring his hole. Steve rewarded the praise with a slap to Pietro’s right ass cheek, the sound of it ringing throughout the room. He gasped, biting his lip and groaning, doing everything but begging for another. The fact that Steve could make it sting in that deliciously sharp way without even trying was something Pietro couldn’t focus on, or he’d just fucking explode.

“You like that?” Steve, ever the gentleman, asked, trying to hide his smile in the swell of an ass cheek. He bit down on the skin lightly, groaning into the firm give of muscle and skin. It was like a perfectly ripe peach: not too soft, but still plenty juicy.

“I fucking love that,” Pietro moaned, shaking his head and licking his lips at Steve, boring his even lighter blue eyes into Steve’s. “But I want more. Now.” Steve’s eyes did something, got darker somehow, and then he pointed towards the nightstand while pushing Pietro up the bed with the other hand. Pietro’s quick, so while he’d been shoved up, he reached out and opened the drawer when he’s within reach. Steve crawled up the bed, looking like an animal chasing his meal, and dove his tongue back into Pietro’s hole with absolutely no grace; all teeth and tongue. Pietro fumbled around in the drawer while his body jerked and did things outside of his control. Having supersoldier tongue up your ass was pretty life-altering, he found out. Finally, his hand found a tube, and he had handled enough lube bottles to know what it was, so he pulled it out, leaving the drawer open in his haste, and then he saw it. The fucking bottle of lube. He was so shocked he couldn’t even laugh, but a short chuckle was able to leave his speechless mouth.

Pietro just stared at Steve with an _are you serious_ expression, a [bullet-shaped bottle](https://pics.drugstore.com/prodimg/168999/900.jpg) with the words GUN OIL in thick, block letters in hand. Steve looked back, eyes wide and eyebrows up on his forehead, trying to feign indifference. “It was a gift,” Steve offered, reaching out and snatching the bottle out of the other’s hand. Pietro just smirked at him, wholeheartedly not believing Steve at all. He would have started to laugh, but the blunt tip of one large finger started circling his loosened hole, cool and slick with ridiculously packaged lube. That shut him up real quick. Steve slowly started pressing into his tight heat, and Pietro did his best to literally pull him in, wanting to take him in down to the knuckle of his fist. They boat groaned as Steve started twisting his wrist, curving his finger slightly in order to rub along the walls of Pietro’s insides. Let it be said that a single Steve Rogers finger could make Pietro forget about the absolutely embarrassing Gun Oil lube in Captain America’s nightstand. Hell, Steve could shove _actual_ gun oil up his ass and he’d probably thank him.

Steve watched Pietro’s face with every micro-movement of his finger. It was so tight, so hot, and he could not wait to get his dick up in that. But first, stretch that shit open, because Steve was not a sadist. Well, not all the time. When Pietro started grinding his hips down on Steve’s hand, he added another finger, pulling the one finger out to the first knuckle and wiggling in the second finger. Pietro groaned, loudly, and it was glorious. Steve kissed the inside of Pietro’s knee before moving to kneel between his legs, turning his hand palm-side up and crooking his fingers and finding that spot. The spot to make Pietro shout, and shout he did. He shouted and cursed in Sokovian as Steve wrapped his lips around his leaking cock and started bobbing his head to the rhythm of his pumping fingers.

The younger man writhed, cursing but keeping himself bent to allow Steve as much room as he wanted to do all those things to him. He planted his heels on Steve’s huge back, using that leverage to thrust up into Steve’s mouth and then fuck back down onto his fingers. It was so fucking perfect. His urge to kiss Steve somehow outweighed him wanting his mouth on his dick, so he reached down and pulled Steve up, and Steve, the saint, kept his fingers inside his ass as he made his way up. Pietro attacked his mouth brutally, there was no other way to describe it, biting his lip and running his tongue behind Steve’s teeth. He moaned into his mouth, feeling Steve’s wet chin against his own. Another finger was added to the pair inside him and his eyes rolled back as he pressed his forehead up against Steve’s. He clenched around Steve’s fingers before reaching down to pull his hand away. He wanted the sting and burn of being split open.

“Fuck me. Now,” he ordered, voice low and hoarse with want, and need. Steve leaned up on his knees between Pietro’s thighs, reaching behind himself for the bottle of lube, but Pietro had something else in mind. He sat up and started to shove Steve to the side, not able to at first, but then Steve let himself be moved. Pietro shoved him down onto the bed on his back, taking the lube from his slippery hand before straddling narrow hips. Steve’s eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly, reaching out tentatively to grab Pietro’s hips as his cock was stroked and covered with lube.

“I thought you wanted me to,” Steve started, cutting himself off when Pietro squeezed his dick and twisted his wrist just a little. He wasn’t complaining. Pietro could do just about anything right now and he’d agree.

“You’ll have your turn, big guy,” Pietro smirked, rubbing Steve’s cock along the cleft of his ass. He moved so that he was on his feet, squatting lowly over Steve, ready to just fucking _sink_ down on that huge cock. “I have to do something first.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, nodding his head, anxiously biting his lip and starting down at where his dick was beginning to poke at the waiting hole. Pietro planted one hand on Steve’s chest, the other still reaching behind himself to keep Steve’s dick steady as he slowly started to let it slide in. He grimaced, grunting slightly as the stretch was just shy of painful, but he groaned as that burn gave way to relieving fullness. Steve was no better off, his dick feeling like it was being squeezed in the warmest, slickest vice known to man. His mouth was open in what was surely an unattractive way, but he couldn’t help it. It was just _that_ good.

Once he was fully seated, Pietro made some experimental movements, grinding down onto Steve’s dick to feel how deep it was inside him. Steve made a punched-out noise, completely involuntary, and his hands shot up to grasp at slender hips. Pietro shook his head, a crooked smile on his pouty lips and he pushed Steve’s hands out to the side. Steve had all of a second to look confused before there was nothing but a blur to look confused at. Almost like the blowjob in his kitchen, he felt A LOT going on, but couldn’t discern exactly what the fuck was going on. It was more intense that the blowjob, too, and all Steve could do was let himself literally vibrate on top of the bed (if it had been slower, he would have been bouncing. Like normal fucking people did).

With a surprised grunt, he felt his balls draw up and his cock spurt, and the blur suddenly changed back to the sexy foreigner riding his dick. Pietro rolled his body, still on his feet and squatting down, smirking down at Steve with a sort of hunger in his eyes that was almost alarming. Steve just whined as he kept coming, eyes still wide in surprise, hands clenched into fists at his sides. More cool wind and another blur and Steve was getting his mind blown once again. How was this legal? How was riding dick like the fucking Tasmanian Devil something you could do to a poor old man? Then there it was again, that tingling sensation deep in his gut, drawing his balls up like a string. He was about to cum, again, and there was nothing in the entire world that could stop it.

He shouted that time, hands coming up to cover his eyes as the sensitivity was starting to become too much. It wouldn’t be too much, though. He was still just as hard as when they first started in the kitchen. There was no going down any time soon. He wouldn’t fucking allow it. Pietro slowed down again, lowering himself to his knees and leaning forward to give Steve a quick kiss, cum still pumping inside him. “You still with me?”

Steve uncovered his eyes; he was out of breath and slightly sweaty, even though he had done nothing more than just lie there and be ridden like a supped-up mechanical bull. Pietro was looking down at him, slowly rolling his hips to ride Steve like a normal person for a bit. He was a little sweaty, but he looked happy. Well-fucked, already. “Holy shit,” Steve answered, because that was the only thing he could say. He chuckled a little, just completely in awe of what just happened. “I came twice.”

“Oh, I know,” Pietro purred, smiling and groping Steve’s chest, staring down at all the skin and muscle between his thighs. “And still ready for more.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact. Because yes, Steve was, in fact, ready for more. Hard as a fucking rock. Pietro rolled his hips a little faster, still within the realms of ordinary sex and took one hand off of Steve’s chest to stroke his own cock. Steve watched, absorbed in the entire show that was in front of him. Pale skin, moving muscle, perfectly pink lips surrounded by dark stubble. Those fucking icy-blue eyes just staring into his own. It was a pretty picture, one Steve would never forget. He kept that pace for a few more moments. Let Steve slide his hands up and down his legs, let him thrust up into his movements. He had some more energy to expend before giving the reigns to Steve, though. He leaned down and kissed Steve slowly before sitting back up and winking at him. “Just a little more.”

That was all the warning Steve got before the blue blur happened again. Ten seconds of just all-out intense sensation and then he felt the briefest amount of cool air on his dick before the heat was back. Pietro came back into view, chugging part of a Gatorade that appeared to be the flavor Steve kept in his fridge. He took a few more sips before handing the bottle to a bewildered Steve, wiping the back of his hand across his wet lips. He was back to super-high-speed dick riding again, and Steve’s fourth orgasm of the day (that didn’t involve his own hand) tore through him with a strangled yelp and an awkward hiss. He couldn’t stop his fists from clenching, and that caused him to crush the bottle in his hand, squeezing out blue, sugary liquid all over the side of the bed and himself. Sprinkles of cold showered him and Pietro, and the younger man laughed as he came back to normal speed, shaking was had to be Gatorade out of his hair and eyes.

Breathing hard and brain almost mush, Steve dropped the crushed plastic in his hand and let his head fall back on the bed. His arms were outstretched by his sides, and he looked a hilarious combination of blissful and used. Steve reaches out with one long arm and grasps the back of Pietro’s neck, pulling him down into a surprisingly slow, gentle kiss. Their tongues glided back and forth, tasting of Glacier Freeze, and Steve’s hand felt sticky, but neither seem bothered by it. Steve sucked on the other’s bottom lip, tugging enough to earn him a groan, and he bent his knees, thrusting his hips up and making Pietro gasp. He started off slow, just enjoying the feel of every inch of his cock sliding in and out of a lube and cum slick hole. He grasped Pietro’s ass, squeezing and kneading, and he could feel his own cum staining the insides of Pietro’s cheeks and thighs, no doubt leaking out from all the movement. That stirred up something inside Steve; that fierce, animalistic marking and claiming feeling that sounds bad if you say it out loud.

Pietro’s hands go to the sides of Steve’s head, long fingers digging into his hair and _tugging_ just the way he liked. Steve knew a hint when he got one, so he sped up, really putting some power behind each thrust. Enough power to get some amazing facial expressions and fucked-out noises from the epitome of a power-bottom on top of him. Steve grit his teeth and grunted, adjusting them on the bed so he could get a better angle inside of him. He knew it worked when Pietro shouted something Steve couldn’t understand, slamming a fist down on Steve’s chest, mouth falling open, and hooded eyes glaring like he just couldn’t believe it. Steve would have smirked if his mind hadn’t been blown to smithereens by this fuck already.

After four orgasms and many, many nights of dreaming about what he tasted like, Steve was more than ready to watch Pietro cum. He double-downed on his efforts, holding a firm grip on one hip while trailing a hand up that lean torso. He wrapped his hand loosely around his throat, bringing his head down enough to look him in the eyes. Pietro’s gaze darkened, hazy with the effects of good dick, and grabbed Steve’s wrist with the hand not trying to break skin on Steve’s chest. With a daring look, he pushed Steve’s hand against his throat harder, tilting his chin up, giving him more throat to hold.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve hissed, doing his best not to explode yet again while squeezing Pietro’s throat with intent, as directed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the smaller man chanted, digging his nails out of Steve’s chest and wrapping it around his own cock, stroking hard and slow. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Steve could see it, could fucking _feel it_ , Pietro’s orgasm just a few thrusts away, so he slammed home each time, conscious of his strength and cautious to not actually break anything. He was nodding, looking at Steve with a silent plea in his eyes, so Steve tightened his grip on his throat even more, making the constant chant of expletives come out hoarse and strained. Steve could see more white than blue in his eyes and he wished he had the ability to look in two different places at once. He wanted nothing more than to see Pietro’s beautiful face as he came, but he also wanted to watch cum shoot out of that pretty cock, coat his chest, really feel the warmth of it.

“You want it?” Pietro asked, voice barely over a whisper but strong enough to take root in Steve’s mind.

“Oh, yes, please,” Steve groaned, wetting his lips, dry from breathing hard and open-mouthed. Pietro hummed in approval, giving Steve one of the dirtiest looks imaginable while biting his bottom lip, body rolling, hips grinding. He stroked his cock faster, and with a few delicious _ah ah ah_ sounds, his body seized up, but he didn’t stop moving, mouth falling open, tongue against teeth before his jaw clenched shut. The hand on Steve’s chest moved to his hair, and it was like Pietro was trying to hold him down, lay him out and cum exactly where he wanted to.

And Steve… Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was not expecting _that_. Pietro came at such a high velocity, he was pretty sure that If Tony knew about it, he would try to weaponize it somehow. Spurt after spurt of hot, projectile cum covered Steve’s chest, neck, and chin; painting white stripes on the pink flush of his skin. All he needed was a fucking star on his sternum and he’d be America’s messy, pornographic flag.

Pietro came down from his high, torso slumped over, one hand still in Steve’s hair while the other was lazily holding his softening cock. He was breathing hard, looking over Steve’s stomach and chest with a satisfied grin on his face. Steve was just in awe; what else could he feel after watching someone shoot-off like that? Pietro leaned down even more to lick the stripe of cum of Steve’s chin, letting it hang from his tongue before feeding it into Steve’s mouth. Steve moaned into the kiss, sucking Pietro’s tongue, tasting the salty release around the sweetness of Pietro’s mouth.

Shifting up off of Steve’s cock with a grimace, Pietro worked his way down the sculpted body beneath him, sucking and licking every drop of himself off flushed skin, making sure to get every drop; and if he paid a little more attention to Steve’s abs than he needed to, who could blame him? With the final stripe cleaned off of Steve’s hip, Pietro hopped off the bed, smirking at a very bewildered Steve. Before he could ask _What about me?_ , Pietro was gone within a blink and back again, holding one of Steve’s sandwiches. Pietro tossed it to him, and Steve looked at it with both hunger and uncertainty, like Pietro would ask him to defile such a delicacy in the bedroom.

“I’m not done with you, yet,” Pietro informed him, and he smirked even more at the twinkle of excitement in Steve’s eyes. “Eat up, I want you to give me everything you got.”

Steve’s eyes darkened at the potential of that statement. Without hesitation, he unwrapped half of the sandwich and took a huge bite, not one to let his erection deter him from eating. Steve groaned at the taste, the sustenance he always desperately needed, and Pietro chuckled as he slid back on the bed, hands working up Steve’s legs towards his cock. Steve froze in the middle of his next bite as Pietro wrapped a hand around his cock, eyeing Steve the way one would while waiting patiently for the food they ordered. He inhaled another bite; not because he was feeling rushed, but because the sooner he got through the food, the sooner he could make good on Pietro’s request. It was when Pietro’s thumb stroked along the head, tip dipping slightly in the slit, a click could be heard towards Steve’s front door.

Steve, mouth full of half-chewed sandwich and eyes wide at the sound of his front door opening, looked over at Pietro with _ohfuckohfuckohfuck_ very clearly written across his stupidly pretty face. Pietro gave an almost apologetic look as he shrugged one shoulder before disappearing into the blue blur Steve was all too intimately aware of. Before Steve could register the changes to his person that had been made, Tony Stark was strolling through the door to his bedroom, pausing only when he saw Steve in his current state. Steve audibly swallowed what was in his mouth, looking down to find that his still very interested dick was covered with his own shirt, dripping sandwich in one hand, and the other was just lifted in the air like it hadn’t a clue why it was attached to him. He looked back up, holding his breath, to see Tony’s slightly-surprised-but-not-really expression; eyebrows raised but jaw loose.

There was an uncomfortably long and awkward moment where neither man spoke, just simply looked at each other with only the sound of their breathing to occupy their ears. “Well, this is weird, even for me,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence. He hadn’t moved, and he was still just staring at Steve like he was expecting something to happen, or, at the very least, change. Nothing did. “I’ll, I’ll just come back another time.”

“Sounds good,” Steve replied, somehow completely normally and not like he had been caught naked and flushed on his bed with an obscenely saucy sandwich in hand (thank _Christ_ his dick was covered). As he spoke he could feel the marinara sauce at the corner of his mouth, but he feared the loss of even more dignity if he licked it away. Tony opened his mouth to speak, possibly to ask a question, but then thought better of it. He gave Steve another once-over before blinking rapidly and exiting the bedroom. Steve sighed in relief and contemplated taking another bite when he heard his front door close again and automatically lock itself. _Thanks, Tony._ He was about to call out for the guest he really, really hoped was still in when a sudden cool breeze gave his a dick a twitch in relief.

“Finally, something that actually surprised Tony Stark!” Pietro sang out, dropping his pile of clothes (because he was obviously smarter than Steve and realized to take those with him wherever he went) unceremoniously to the ground before hopping back onto the bed next to Steve. He landed on his stomach and that gave Steve a great view of the way his ass bounced at the landing. His stomach growled at that moment, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the sandwich or the supple ass in his sights. He should have been disgusted with himself, being unsure what his body wanted more: food or ass, and it was even worse was that he couldn’t rely on his ridiculous erection for the answer, either, because when you have the caloric requirements of a racehorse, it was to be expected. Pietro burst into laughter, reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce off Steve’s mouth and then sucked his thumb clean. Steve just stared awkwardly, because what else would he be able to do after that?

“Finish that, I’ve got your next meal right here” Pietro said, feigning innocence as he wiggled his hips and widened his eyes like the most adorable and fuckable puppy. “Nice and juicy for you.” Steve’s dick twitched. “Hot and ready.” Pietro tossed the shirt over Steve’s dick to the side, exposing it as he laid his head down on his hip. Steve could feel Pietro’s warm breath on the tip of his dick, so he quickly shoved as much of the sandwich into his mouth as he could and sat it down on the nightstand. He’d get back to it when they were done. That one and the other sandwiches. And cookies. He had never chewed faster in his entire life and Pietro seemed pleased to see how eager he was. He moved out of the way just enough to allow Steve to get off of his ass and move behind him, coming between his thighs.

The younger man watched over his shoulder as Steve framed his hands on the outside of his hips, kneading the meat of his ass and spreading him open, seeing the damage that had been done. A wet, reddened hole, fingers stuffed in it, was exposed to his sight, and Steve licked his lips at it before bending his head down to stroke his tongue from perineum to the top of his crack. Pietro tasted of lube and cum at that point, but Steve really couldn’t give a fuck. He slid his tongue into the space Pietro made between his fingers and shook his head so plump, muscular cheeks would jiggle against his face. Pietro moaned lewdly and chuckled, pulling his fingers out of himself, letting them slide into Steve’s mouth where the larger man playfully bit them before getting back to work on that ass.

He forced his tongue to reaches places inside another human that no tongue ever should, and once Steve was satisfied with the noises and motions Pietro was making, he leaned up, shoving Pietro’s thighs out wider with his knees, and lined himself up. With one hand on the base of his cock to assist in re-entry, Steve placed his other hand in a fist on the bed next to Pietro’s shoulder. The younger man was lifting his hips off the mattress, arching his back, and turning his head to watch Steve out of the corner of his eye. He was biting his lip, and it was too inviting, So Steve leaned down, bending at the elbow supporting his weight, and pressed his mouth against Pietro’s ear as he fucked into him in one quick thrust.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Pietro groaned, eyes rolling towards the inside of his skull, looping his arm around Steve’s and biting into the meat of his own hand, right below his thumb’s knuckle. Steve started thrusting, short, fast, and punishing strokes, and Pietro kept making those wonderfully punched-out noises with every thrust. “Yeh-es, fuh-uck me-ee,” he bit out around his skin, each word interrupted by a thrust that left a satisfied smile on his face. Steve cursed at that, quickly kissing Pietro’s neck before leaning up and placing one hand in the center of Pietro’s back, the other moving to his shoulder, pinning him down so he could really put his back into it. Steve tested the waters by going a bit harder, and instead of protest, he was greeted with the lewdest cries and more strings of words in Sokovian. He took it as a good sign to continue.

The sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin rang loud and proud in the air along with Pietro’s moans. Steve had always been more reserved, only letting a few grunts and gasps escape his lips loud enough to fill the room. He blamed it on the time he was from, never having the ability to be as loud as he wanted when he was with men, and it’s not like he had very much experience with women. He could count those encounters on one hand. That being said, the way the other man was sounding, moving, and just _taking it_ forced Steve a little louder than he ever remembered himself to be. For the first time since living there, he was happy to have his own floor in the Tower.

Steve kept on plowing like a farmer trying to beat the rain, testing the integrity of his nearly indestructible bedframe with every thrust. Normally he wouldn’t take advantage someone’s enhancements for the sake of his pleasure, but the fact that Pietro had bones strong enough to withstand the force and shock of his speed was like a fucking gift. Steve could fuck into him with more strength than he would ever exude with anyone unlike himself, and the ability to do so was so freeing. Pietro seemed to enjoy getting fucked through the mattress, as well. Each thrust pushed his body down and up, so Steve took his hand off the other shoulder and placed it against the headboard to keep from nailing that pretty head through it. The grip on the headboard was beneficial in more than one way, and it gave Steve the leverage to press his dick as far into Pietro’s ass as he could.

Both men were sweaty and grunting, and Pietro kept making the occasional keening sound that drove Steve insane. He couldn’t take how far away that body was. He wanted it against him; he wanted the heat, the sweat, the feel of muscle sliding against muscle. He wanted all of it, selfishly. Without preamble, he leaned down and wrapped an arm under Pietro’s chest, hauling him up so he was kneeling between Steve’s thighs, cock never leaving his ass. Steve kept them braced by his hand on the headboard and kept Pietro against his chest by his arm crossing his torso like some sex-seatbelt, keeping him strapped in, not going anywhere Steve didn’t want him to. Safety first, kids.

Pietro gasped and turned his head to look behind him, lips parted as he panted and tried to breathe. Steve leaned forward and licked into that open mouth, lips swollen and warm against his own. He loved that he could feel the air being pushed out of Pietro’s lungs through his nose, hot against his face with every thrust of his hips. It made him feel he was doing his part; doing what was requested so beautifully in the kitchen. Their mouths only parted when the need for air was greater than the need to taste one another, and even then, it was a reluctant action. Like that, he could look down over Pietro’s body and watch his cock slap against his stomach, a clear trail of precum stretching with each movement. He was rock-hard; Steve could see the veins full of blood. He looked ready to fucking explode.

“Choke me,” Pietro demanded, his voice hoarse and fucked-out, dripping with need. “Fucking choke me and make me cum.” Steve groaned, sliding his hand from Pietro’s chest up to his throat, his large palm covering the expanse of it easily, fingers and thumb digging into the sensitive skin at the corners of his jaw. He squeezed, applying the pressure with perfect precision. Half blood-choke, half air-choke. The best combination to really give Pietro what he wanted: the dizzying ecstasy of reduced oxygen to both brain and lungs. He put more force into his hips, just the last bit more he would do comfortably, for both of them. Just enough force to ride the edge of pain that Pietro seemed to crave and Steve enjoyed giving.

Pietro grabbed Steve’s thigh with one hand, the other started to furiously stroke over his own cock, the speed causing a blur in Steve’s eyes. Steve sat back on his haunches a little more, getting the angle right, and he knew he hit it when Pietro cried out, hold clenching around Steve cock and cum spurting out of his dick with the same speed as before. It coated his stomach, the headboard, the sheets and pillows in front of him. He was so hot, so tight on Steve’s dick that he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Once Pietro had barely caught his breath and lifted his hand to lick the cum off of it, some tightly-strung tether in Steve broke.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whispered, growling deep in his chest before pushing Pietro back down on the bed, not caring about smearing cum everywhere, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was chasing his release, and it was right fucking there. Pietro let out a short gasp before his breath and any other sound was silenced by Steve placing both hands low on Pietro’s hips, pressing him down and ramming into him with renowned fervor. He let himself get carried away, and his last few thrusts were probably harder than he should have gone, but the younger man didn’t complain, he just cried out with a blissful smile on his lips. Steve came with a reserved roar, pumping his release into that fluttering hole, filling it up yet again, ruining it for anyone else. Gasping, he kept Pietro pinned down as he pulled out, wanting to watch the way his abused hole gaped for him; wet and swollen, cum dripping from the rim.

With a satisfied huff, Steve rolled over to the side, landing with a thud that made Pietro’s prone/supine body bounce next to him, boneless and used. He seemed to still be trying to come back to his senses as he looked over his shoulder at the mess that was his ass. “Damn,” he sighed, brows knitting together to look almost disappointed, more like he missed out. Steve lifted his head a little to get a better look. He wasn’t sure where he underperformed, but he wasn’t so arrogant he didn’t think it could happen. He was almost 100 after all. “I really wanted to taste it. All those other times you just came right down my throat, nothing ever got on my tongue.” He gave Steve his fuckable puppy face again, pouty lips and all.

Steve groaned, an almost painful sound. How could he just say _that,_ in _that_ accent? It wasn’t fair, and Steve probably would cut his own leg off to give him whatever he wanted. So, being the accommodating bastard he was, he rolled himself back over between Pietro’s parted thighs, grabbed that plump ass in his hands, and slid his tongue through the cleft, collecting his own cum out of that beautifully abused hole. He curled his tongue, trying his damndest to scoop out all of his cum like he would trying to clean a Super Snack-Pack pudding cup, sans spoon. Spoons were for quitters (again, his correlation between sex and food was starting to become alarming). Holding the remaining contents of the multiple supersoldier ejaculate he dumped into Pietro’s ass in his mouth, he crawled back up towards Pietro and pressed their mouths together. Pietro moaned, a surprised and absolutely elated sound, and opened his lips for Steve to feed him every drop of cum right out of his mouth, sucking it off his tongue; still body-heat warm.

Steve could feel his cum lingering between their mouths, some leaking out the corners, so he quickly lapped that off the short stubble around Pietro’s mouth before licking those drops back into the other’s awaiting orifice. Pietro gasped when he felt thick fingers circling his hole, poking and prodding, coming out slicker than when they entered. Slowly, Steve brought those fingers into play, sneaking them into Pietro’s mouth as soon as his lips pulled away. Another shocked and desperate noise escaped Pietro’s chest, coming out muffled around fingers and cum. Steve growled lowly in his chest at the wanton display, diving back in with his tongue, seeking out Pietro’s from beneath his fingers, teeth nipping at lips.

They pulled away once viscous, salty feel was out of their mouths, and Steve finally rolled onto his back, taking in a few much needed deep breaths. Pietro moved to his side, reaching out and delicately tracing the lines of Steve abs with a single finger, getting a small chuckle from the large man, whose eyes remained closed, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

“That last bit was, _by far_ , the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” Pietro admitted, biting his bottom lip as he admired the true masterpiece that was Steve Rogers’ super-body. “Who knew sweet-as-apple-pie Captain America had it in him?” he jested, roughly shoving at his ribs. Even his fucking intercostals were ripped. Steve was a walking dream, and Pietro wanted to scrub his dick along those wash-board abs of freedom, you know, just to clean out any remaining communism from his system.

Steve laughed, turning his head towards Pietro, opening his eyes sluggishly. “Oh, there’s a lot people don’t know I have in me,” he said, again, without fucking thinking before his tongue said the most ridiculous shit. That was exactly why no one let him do impromptu press conferences. He had to know what to say, or he’d spew off ludicrous statements like fireworks on the 4th of July in the fucking South: everywhere, all at once, chaos ensuing, potentially a house fire burning in the background as a drunk man on a four-wheeler hopped a pile of Bud Light cans.

“Oh, is that so?” Pietro implored, scooting closer to Steve, raising a single eyebrow before starting to gently kiss along Steve’s chest.

“Mmhhmm,” Steve answered, closing his eyes again and smiling. His skin always felt so tingly, so alive after sex or a fight, and the gentle kisses and scratchy stubble sent a thrill down his spine, straight to his dick.

“I’d like to see what else you have in you,” Pietro said softly, sliding further down the bed so he could nip along Steve’s hips, trailing his lips right above the thatch of dark gold surrounding that magnificent cock. “Ready for more?” the younger man asked, hand wrapping around the base of Steve’s erection, licking his lips, and staring at Steve like he needed dick to survive. Hell, he probably fucking did for how desperate he was for it. Steve _loved_ that.

“Who, me?” Steve asked, slightly breathless as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Pietro purposefully ghosted his breath over the sensitive skin, lips barely grazing, icy blue eyes never leaving his own. “I can do this all day.” He parted his lips, ran his tongue along the tops of his teeth, giving Pietro an equally heated expression. A dare, if you will, a look that shouted _fucking try me_ and dripped with sex and promise. Without a second thought, Pietro spit on Steve’s cock, and suddenly, after a burst of blue static and wind, Pietro was straddling Steve’s hips and sinking down on his cock, hole stretching and wet; just fucking perfect. Steve hissed through his teeth once his brain caught up to what his dick was feeling, and he reached out and roughly grabbed Pietro’s hips before forcing him down fully, sheathing himself inside, shoving as far in as Pietro could take him, and then pushing him down his length just a bit more.

The smaller man winced with a breathy grunt, eyes squeezing shut before opening and looking at Steve like he wanted to kill him, then fuck him back to life, and then kill him again. Steve used his strength to lift Pietro off his lap until just the very tip of his cock remained inside him, and then he slammed the kid back down on his length. Pietro threw his head back, exposing that lovely pale skin on his throat, veins sticking out deliciously. Steve did it again, picking up the pace, until he was literally fucking himself with Pietro’s body, and the younger man just _took it_. Like a fucking champ. Like the cock-slut he was, making those maddening noises that made Steve want to cum on the spot. It remained like that until Pietro took control back, pressing Steve’s wrists above his head on the bed and riding him until he came twice all over Steve’s chest. Untouched.

Steve was done for. _So_ fucking done for. Steven Grant Rogers, an American Icon, was going to die at the hands, mouth, and impeccable foreign ass of an enhanced twenty-something. In his own bed. A death any old man would be proud of. One to send him to the halls of Valhalla, as Thor would say, because sex with Pietro was, obviously, the sexual equivalent of battle.

* * *

The next day, Steve had a medium-sized envelope slid under his door. Inside was one of those little placards for the doorknob reading Do Not Disturb: I’m Having a Special Moment with a Sandwich.

* * *

\--3--

The entire team made it back to the Quinjet, not in the same condition in which they left it. At all. Steve was carrying Natasha, who probably had a fractured ankle, and Tony was half-dragging his suit because the portion still intact was only working at 30% capacity. Pietro, covered in shrapnel lacerations and bruises, was helping his sister, weak from the power she put out to ensure everyone actually made it back. Clint remained fairly unscathed from his advantageous position on top of a building; his perfect shots added to their hard-earned, barely-able-to-call-it-that, success.

After setting Natasha down, the pain in Steve’s side made itself known again, and he hissed at the sting as he unbuckled the strap to his helmet. He was angry. Far too much damage. Yet another world disaster saved by the Avengers, just don’t mind the destruction and carnage left behind. _Fucking bullshit_. Steve tossed his helmet; it being an expensive piece of _everything-_ proof equipment was the only reason he didn’t throw it and cut-out a hole in the side of the jet. That, and the fact that he wanted to get back to the Tower, shower, eat, and sleep for three days. A hole in the side of his ride would be counterproductive to that plan.

No one came to try and talk him down. They knew better. Steve was all mild-mannered and boyishly charming any other time, but feeling like he didn’t do enough, or could have done better, turned him into a different person. The person who had seen a world at war, lost friends in the fight, and sacrificed himself for the cause, all for it to be for nothing. Waking up in a different century, surrounded by so much _shit_ , darkened parts of him he kept to himself. They only came out after a fight, when all that blood and adrenaline flowed through his veins, fueling the serum-enhanced rage he struggled to hold back. No, it was not one of those times to poke the beast caged behind Life, Liberty, Justice, and the American Way; a tri-colored symbol just as fucked-up as the country it represented.

He stalked off towards one of the room opposite of the main loading station where the other team members chose to stay. He didn’t look at any of them, not out of anger towards them, but looking them in the eyes was not something his guilt and self-loathing would allow. He entered the room, the door closing automatically behind him, and he sat on the first surface he could find: a small bench-seat along the wall, clean, metal tables filled the rest of the room, where tech, gear, explosives, and/or bodies could hitch a secure ride back to wherever, all courtesy of Stark Industries and the Avengers. He closed his eyes and finally let the shield drop to the floor, the loud thunk of exotic metal echoed along the floor, even as the jets started up and they began to take flight. He stretched out his hands, the leather gloves creaking from tension and drying fluids along the knuckles. The top half of his fingers not covered by brown leather were black and red, dirt and dried blood caked under his nails and in the creases of his skin.

Steve could feel his hair flat against his skull, pressed down by sweat and grime from under the helmet. He ran one hand through his hair, the strands sticky and crunchy, but fluffing back up after a few passes with his fingers. He scrubbed his hands over his face, not really caring about what he was spreading to the top portion, kept clean and untouched. If he hadn’t have been so fucking exhausted and just _done_ , he would have jumped when the door slid open unexpectedly. He still had his eyes closed, and whoever entered hadn’t said anything yet. Steve sighed, sitting up and leaning his head back against the cool metal wall, looking just about as apathetic as he felt.

“Go away,” he said, voice quiet but stern. No need to bring out the Captain’s Orders tone or the Asshole Steve voice; not yet. There was still silence, but Steve could hear the few steps the person took, and just before he opened his eyes, the unmistakable accent lilted through the air.

“Do you really want me to leave?” the younger man asked, sounding only slightly incredulous. He could see it, the tension and the anger rolling off Steve in the form of stiff posture and furrowed brow. Steve could _hear_ the other’s acknowledgement of it, through quickened breath and heart rate. The familiar intruder was excited by it.

“Yes, Pietro,” Steve sighed, finally opening his eyes but keeping his face in the same direction. He didn’t want to look at the other man; he didn’t want to see what he knew he would. He’d see the lacerations, the debris, the weariness in the young man’s body, and Steve would feel the guilt for that, and the unquestionable arousal from it, as well. Steve never claimed to be a righteous man; the papers and news outlets did that. “I do.”

“I don’t think you do,” Pietro argued, taking a few steps closer. There was still a good distance between the two, and Steve was glad for it. He grit his teeth, taking a loud, deep breath, trying to keep the anger at bay. He turned his head enough to get a glimpse of Pietro, all lax in stance, infuriatingly knowing smirk on his face. Steve really tried to not let his eyes trail down to the plushy lips on Pietro’s face, a small cut along a corner on the bottom lip stuck out against the dry, pale-pink skin. He steeled his gaze quickly, shooting back up to the stormy eyes, looking at them superficially; hard and indifferent.

“Okay, how ‘bout this,” Steve offered, the volume in his voice rising, lacing with all of that ‘40’s attitude he has stored up. “I’m not in the fucking mood to be a stationary cock for you to ride full-fucking-throttle.” He glared at Pietro, face hard, body tense.

“I didn’t hear any complaints a few weeks ago,” Pietro countered, walking even closer. There was only a few feet between them, and the tension was palpable; static and straining. He raised a single eyebrow, studying the Captain’s face, fighting the urge to lick his lips at the authority of it all.

Steve stared at him for a few seconds, completely in disbelief at what he just heart. He swallowed, and without changing his expression, finally spoke. “Were you not just out there?” he asked, bending an arm to post a fist on his hip, exacerbated.

“Yes, we won,” Pietro answered, a few octaves higher than his natural voice, shrugging as Steve continued to stare at him incredulously.

“Fucking _barely,_ ” Steve argued, making a move to shift in his seat, irritating his injured side, causing a grunt to escape his lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by the intruder in the room, and Pietro looked down to see the tear and the rust-colored stains. Steve sat up straighter, ignoring the twinge in his side, sighing through his nose. “If you stayed with the rest of the team instead of running off to wherever the fuck you go, you’d know that.”

“I thought the point was to put up a fight, not try and martyr yourself because it is _the right thing to do_ ,” Pietro stated, pointing towards Steve’s side, an unnecessary wound brought on by acting like a barrier between _the shit_ and innocent civilians.

“The _point_ is to follow orders,” Steve said through gritted teeth, the muscles in his jaw jumping from clenching so hard.

Pietro stepped even closer, now less than a foot between the two men, and he stared down at Steve, the only time that was possible, with fight in his eyes, daring and hopeful. “You mean your orders.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, one brow slightly raised, assessing the look on the other man. The slight cock to his hip, like he knew what he looked like, lips parted, head tilted back to expose the tendons in his neck, sweaty compression shirt, clinging to every curve of muscle along his arms, chest, and torso. He fucking knew, Steve was sure of it.

“Why, hm?” The question was simple, but the gleam in his eyes, the one that showed he knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Steve say it, to hear the Captain say it, was obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide what he wanted, but Steve was never one to fold so easily.

“You know why,” Steve drawled, the implication plain as day. The _because I’m in charge_ was silent, but the tone was set in the way Steve sat impossibly straight, shoulders squared, authority swimming around him even from his seated position.

Pietro smirked. “You’re not going to say it.” A statement, not a question.

“No,” Steve answered, head still, not needing nonverbal cues to get his point across. “But you will.” If that didn’t send an immediate shiver down Pietro’s body, Steve would have thought the kid caught a chill, but _fuck_ if he couldn’t see his crotch start to swell.

The faintest of gasps could be heard whispering from Pietro’s parted lips, followed by an amused grin, one that appeared victorious and eager. He got down on his knees in front of Steve, reaching out to put his hands on either of Steve’s thighs, trying to make room for his torso. Steve glowered, lightly pushing at Pietro’s shoulder like one would swat at a fly; a miniscule annoyance. The younger man wouldn’t fail so easily, that wasn’t his style. He’d push and push until Steve literally kicked him out or took control. He squeezed Steve’s thighs that time, massaging the tense muscle under the dirty blue leather. He leaned down, nuzzling his hip, trying to make it towards Steve’s crotch before he was stopped by another push to his shoulder.

“Stop,” Steve ordered, voice flat, authoritative, faux sincerity behind the words; a trap. They locked their sights, blue gazing into blue, both fierce and unbending. Pietro moved in again, hands going straight to the utility belt fastened directly above Steve’s hardening cock. His fingertips barely brushed the buckle before a large hand was wrapped around his throat, the other gripping into the hair at the crown of his head, pulling, sending searing pain shooting down his spine. He groaned under the grip, even as the hand around his throat tightened threateningly. He forced his eyes open and was met with the expression that Steve shared with his moniker: unadulterated fury and violence. “This what you want?” he asked the younger man, shaking him lightly by the double-grip he had on his person.

“Yes,” Pietro rasped, wincing under Steve’s hold, knowing it was purposeful, letting Pietro know just who he was with. Slowly, deliberately, Steve trailed his eyes down Pietro’s body, scanning the nicks and bruises, the tears in his gear exposing scattered cuts along his body. His sea-blue eyes returned to icy ones, taking his hand out of Pietro’s hair, pressing the pads of his fingers against his slightly parted lips.

“JARVIS, lock the door and soundproof the room. Disable surveillance until I say otherwise.” Steve gave his order to the AI, and JARVIS confirmed with a calm _Yes, Captain Rogers_ as Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hand still wrapped dangerously around Pietro’s throat. If he wasn’t fully aware of what he had asked for, Pietro would have been able to feel relieved, instead, his body was thrumming with adrenaline, post-fight and pre-danger. He would have been embarrassed by how eager his eyes must have been at the Captain’s words, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care how desperate he looked. He wanted that, to look desperate and pathetic. To be a fucking chore at the end of a long day that he was angry to have to finish.

Steve squeezed the throat in his grasp a little harder, forcing a wheeze out of Pietro’s lungs as he plunged two fingers into his mouth, slowly, fingertips dragging along his tongue. His hands were filthy. Hell, they were both fucking filthy, but that didn’t stop Pietro from holding Steve’s wrist to shove the entirety of Steve’s huge, gloved fist into his mouth. The kid really did like the fingerless leather encasing Steve’s hands, seasoned with sweat and blood, a righteous combination of Steve’s and their enemies’. With one hand tickling Pietro’s tonsils, Steve moved his hand from the other’s neck to tangle into icy blonde tresses, wet and gritty with sweat and dirt. He took his hand out of Pietro’s mouth and slapped him hard enough to grab his attention, rubbing saliva across his cheeks and lips while Pietro moaned and smiled contentedly at the treatment.

Steve hooked his fingers back into Pietro’s mouth, behind his bottom teeth, yanking his head into his lap as he lazily unbuckled his belt, undoing the buttons and zippers until he could free his hard length. He could hear Pietro swallow at the site, tongue pressing into Steve’s fingers behind his teeth, his hands bracing himself on the top of Steve’s thighs. Their eyes met for no more than a beat before Pietro opened his mouth and tried to swallow the cock in front of him. Steve took his fingers out of his mouth, curved them around Pietro’s jaw and pushed him back. The younger man growled softly, frustration clearly visible in the set of his features, but Steve wasn’t just going to sit back and let things happen. Not this time. He used the hand in Pietro’s hair to guide him forward, roughly, shoving his cock into his mouth and muffling a pained grunt.

He allowed himself to let out a relieved sigh as tight suction wrapped around his cock, the feel of warm, wet softness gliding up and down his length enough to ease the tension in his shoulders, even if minimally. He used Pietro’s mouth to cover every inch he wanted touched, guiding his head by the curly hair tangled between his fingers. He didn’t look at him, instead he closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation, the soft sounds of slurping and gagging. Pietro would let out a quiet moan when Steve would force his head down on his cock, way past the point of comfort, only letting him back up to gulp for air before shoving him back down. There was no protest from the other; he just let Steve use him, move him where he was wanted. It was exactly what he had wanted when he followed him to the room. He didn’t want Steve to be kind, he wanted Captain America to be brutal. He wasn’t the only one hating himself for what happened.

Steve opened his eyes to see Pietro looking up at him, probably had been the whole time, lips stretched around his cock, the cut on his lower lip starting to bleed again from the friction. He hated the adoration he saw there; he hated that it looked like Pietro was pleased to be where he was, on his knees and being used. Steve hated that he liked it so much even more. He turned Pietro’s head to the side with a forceful tug on his hair, fucking his dick into the pocket of Pietro’s cheek. He pressed into that silky skin until he could see the outline of his cockhead and Pietro’s eyes watered from the pressure. Keeping his face turned that way, Steve brought his hand up and slapped Pietro’s stuffed cheek three times, in quick succession, only hard enough to feel the blows against his own dick. Pietro whimpered, his eyelids only barely flinching with each blow, forced open to stare at Steve.

“There you go,” Steve hummed in approval, face hard and threatening. “Such a fucking _slut_ for it, aren’t you?” The reaction was better than he could have expected. Pietro groaned around his dick, sending jolting vibrations through his nervous system, and nodded with what little room for movement he was granted. Those glacier-blue eyes were huge and round, glassy and unfocused, and they made Steve feel both powerful and vulnerable; an uncomfortable combination that made his palms itch and a cold sweat form on his hairline. He adjusted his position on the seat, thrusting his hips up and forcing his cock back into Pietro’s throat in the process. Steve moved the other’s head off his lap and continued to guide his mouth up and down on his length slowly, savoring every wet drag of lips, tongue, and teeth. The teeth added an edge, a physical reminder that this wasn’t what had happened all those weeks ago in his apartment. It wasn’t a fun surprise, it was a necessary mistake.

Steve stood abruptly, keeping Pietro’s mouth around him, forcing him to shuffle backwards on his knees to make room for Steve to stand. Pietro wrapped his hands around the back of Steve’s thighs, anchoring himself so he could keep bobbing his head rhythmically. With his free hand, Steve tugged at where his pants were splayed open, pushing them down just far enough to pull his balls out, leather still slung low around his hips. He shoved Pietro’s head down lower, and the kneeling man took the wordless hint and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and flattening it against the smooth swell of Steve’s balls. He licked and sucked each one before drawing them both into his mouth. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose, head tilting back so he gaze was toward the ceiling. He sighed when Pietro pulled back, letting each testicle pop out of his mouth with sloppy, wet sounds. 

He wasn’t expecting the sharp pinch of teeth on delicate skin, so when he shot his gaze down towards Pietro, he gave him a challenging look, jaw hardening in aborted protest. It shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was to see the younger man’s eyes gleaming while the skin of Steve’s scrotum was tugged between his teeth, taught and bordering painful, but _fuck_ if it didn’t feel great. Steve tugged his hair harshly, forcing Pietro to open his mouth, releasing Steve’s skin, only to clench his teeth in a hiss. He was breathing raggedly through his mouth, spit covered his swollen lips and chin, and he looked stunningly used already, cheek still marked a light pink beneath thin, dark stubble.

“Get up,” the Captain ordered, assisting in getting the other man up by his hair. Pietro was barely back on his feet before Steve shoved him back, causing him to stumble with a barely-there smirk on his lips. Steve kept his hand out, pressing against Pietro’s chest as he took a few steps forward, forcing the other man back whenever they made contact. He had to give the kid credit, he didn’t back down, and he kept his shoulders squared and pulled-back, ready for a fight. It was the thing Steve liked about him; the cockiness in the face of danger. The unwillingness to admit you’re outmatched, to know when to back down. It reminded him of himself, before the war, a time when his only adversaries were assholes in alleys.

Both men moved until the small of Pietro’s back hit the edge of a table. Steve kept stalking forward, heavy boots echoing in the silent room, until he stood two inches away from the other man, chest to chest. Pietro glared up at him through his thick lashes, chapped lips parted, cool eyes determined and wanting. Returning the glare with superior vehemence, Steve eyed him head to toe, then back up again; a slow and studying analysis. Every scrape, every tear of fabric and skin was a place Steve wanted to both kiss and dig his fingers into, just to see the faces Pietro would make, the wounded noises he’d release to both gentle and brutal touch. His willingness to take whatever was dished out shouldn’t make Steve want to push the boundaries, test the limits, lay him out and unleash all his energy and aggression.

Pietro drank in the attention, tilting his head up and bracing his hands on the edge of the table behind him, stretching his chest, giving more for Steve to look at. He was drawn to the respect Steve didn’t even have to ask for when he was like that, all decked out as Captain America. It was respect for both the man he was, and the air of danger that clung to him, the potential for violence that vibrated off of him, tri-colored and dangerous. The fact that having his cock, hard and heavy, sticking out from where his pants were still open, didn’t detract from that threat was impressive. Pietro looked, as well, let his eyes linger over Steve’s throat, his chest, the tear in his uniform at his side, blood drying on the jagged edges, his thighs, his dick. He took it all in, remembered this version of Steve, the Captain, and he could see the difference between the two, could certainly feel it in his touch.

Slowly, deliberately, Steve reached out and grabbed the hem of Pietro’s shirt, rough fingers brushing skin with how tight the material was. They held eye-contact as Steve started to lift, leather-covered knuckles sliding up sweat-and-blood sticky skin, gritty from soot. Pietro lifted his arms enough for Steve to pull the shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor carelessly as he bent forward and roughly sucked a mark below Pietro’s clavicle. He grunted, the feel of teeth and lips suctioning his skin was stinging, and his hands hovered in the air above Steve’s shoulders. Steve shifted his lips over to a laceration, running his tongue over the broken skin before closing his lips and sucking. Fresh warmth, sharp and metallic, dripped onto his tongue, so he bit down. Pietro jerked, a choked groan rumbled in his chest as Steve rose back up and made quick work of the other’s belt and tac-pants. He got them opened and haphazardly shoved them down his thighs, stepping back with a heated gaze.

Pietro took the hit, quickly kicking out of his shoes and socks before flinging his pants and underwear off one ankle towards the wall. That left him naked, in all his glory, before a fully clothed (except for the remarkable cock hanging out proudly) Captain America, to be scrutinized. Assessed. Steve took it all in; all the cuts and bruises marring the pale skin in front of him. The patches of dried and wet blood, chunks of dirt clinging to curves of muscle, the hard, leaking dick between muscular thighs. It was all for him, and he couldn’t help the pride that welled in his chest at the two bruises he sucked into Pietro’s skin. They were dark and blotchy, the one over the cut was bleeding, teeth marks framing it with perfect divots. A branded thing. 

The Captain stepped close again, leaning his head down to suck Pietro’s bottom lip into his mouth, clamping down with his teeth as he placed a large hand in the center of the kid’s chest. Pietro sighed into it, the false security, and Steve shoved him back, hard enough for his legs to come up as his back hit the cool metal of the table. His lip had remained between Steve’s teeth until it slipped out, not before the pinch broke skin, a new cut welling blood. Pietro huffed the air out of his lungs as he made contact, unable to fully inhale before Steve reached down and wrapped a hand around his throat, pulling him back up, ass digging into the edge of the table as his legs hung around Steve’s hips. He coughed a few times as the restriction on his neck subsided enough to breathe in, and Steve leaned in and licked at the fresh wound on his plump bottom lip. Pietro moaned into it, trying to chase Steve’s mouth unsuccessfully. Steve pulled away from him, leaving him just out of reach as his free hand trailed down Pietro’s torso, fingers catching on every abdominal muscle, until he reached the crease of his thigh. 

The younger man suppressed a shiver, inhaling a shaky breath as he watched Steve’s face remain hard and calculating, his eyes turned down towards Pietro’s exposed crotch that he was purposefully neglecting. His cock twitched under the Captain’s eyes, forcing Pietro to still any movement as Steve slowly slid his gaze up his body back to his face. Pietro licked his lips, smearing blood, stinging a fresh cut, and Steve’s lips parted in want. The Captain held the other man by the grip on his throat as he went in for a kiss, deceptively soft, pulling a whimper from Pietro as he melted into the kiss. The gentleness was short-lived; Steve pulled away from Pietro’s lips, and before the other could even take a breath, he was pushing two fingers into his mouth.

Steve forced the digits in until his knuckles touched teeth, until his fingers were curving along Pietro’s pharynx, blunt nails scraping the soft, wet skin. Pietro gagged uncontrollably, coughing around the intrusion that seemed pleased to be there. He tried to keep his mouth open, teeth resting along leather, as Steve scissored his fingers, gathering more of the thick saliva that gagging produced. He watched Pietro’s mouth stretch over his knuckles, his fingers fucking his throat, the way one would watch a meal being prepared: appreciative and hungry. Pietro’s eyes started to water as another heave rolled through his body when Steve’s fingers pressed down on the very back of his tongue. Wet sounds were coming out of his mouth as the Captain worked Pietro’s throat like he would his hole, simply because he was able to, wanted to.

The larger man leaned forward until his lips traced the shell of Pietro’s ear, hot breath tickling the skin beneath it. “Turn around,” he ordered in a whisper that was no less authoritative, biting down on the skin and cartilage briefly. Steve only pulled his fingers out of Pietro’s mouth when he started to slide off the table, a foggy impression of his back and ass on the metal could be seen before it was covered by his chest. Steve stayed where he was, making Pietro work around him, pressing his ass against his thigh when he bent over, hands planted on the edge of the table in naïve stability. Steve admired the view, the long expanse of lean back tapering down to a nice, round, firm ass. He could remember how tight it was, squeezing his cock perfectly. It was right there, his dick was out and hard, Pietro’s ass was right there for the taking, he could just shove it in and he’d have that feeling back, the fucking vice grip of slick heat. But he wouldn’t; even through the rage, he knew what would take things too far.

Steve grasped the back of Pietro’s neck, squeezing before curling his fingers and scraping down slowly, leaving burning red lines in their wake. Pietro arched his back, facing turning to the side to show his blood-stained teeth sinking into that plush bottom lip. Steve scraped over small cuts and bruises, stray burn mark here and there, and he loved to watch the bruises blanch under the pressure of his fingers, only to bleed back to blue and purple a second later. He wondered how it would look if he did that for the weeks to come, to see how they blanched and took to pressure while healing. Steve scraped especially hard when he reached the top of Pietro’s ass, directly below the dimples on his lower back. The hand that had been in Pietro’s mouth was dangling by his side, viscous spit stringing between the fingers, a drop hit the floor and made a sound. Steve flexed that hand before dragged the two fingers, his pointer and middle, up the cleft of Pietro’s ass, right over his hole.

Pietro startled at the contact, and Steve pressed his free palm directly in the center of his back, holding him down with no effort, keeping him still and compliant. The Captain rubbed over the furled hole twice before sinking his pointer finger in, all the way until his fist pressed against his ass. Pietro groaned, slightly pained, at the sudden burn and stretch. He gasped as Steve pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding his middle and shoving them both in excruciatingly slow. He pressed harder on Pietro’s back, his fist pushing against plump ass as he tilted his wrist, forcing his fingers to press down on his walls, towards his perineum, right against his prostate.

“Ah, _fuck!”_ Pietro gasped out, turning his face towards the table, teeth trying to bite at smooth metal for some sort of purchase. His hands slammed down on the table by his head when Steve repeated his motion, pressing even harder, harshly, against his insides, his rim stretching even more. Steve leaned down behind him so he could spit over Pietro’s stretched hole, twisting his hand so he could cover his ring finger in spit before wiggling that digit into the younger man’s body, too. Pietro moaned, both at the stretch of a third finger and at how he could have sworn the Captain had been smirking against his ass. He could feel the edges of the leather encasing half of the thick fingers inside him, abrading his rim, rubbing it raw. The good Captain huffed a pleased sound when Pietro jolted as he pulled out, tugging at that red rim before slamming them back in, fist bruising muscle-deep.

Steve moved forward, hips pressing to the top of Pietro’s ass, cock laying neatly along the cleft, filling that space, claiming it. He used his own hips to keep his fist digging into round flesh, fingers impossibly deep. He leaned over Pietro’s back, feeling heated flesh through layers of leather and Kevlar, the other hand moving up from his back, dragging over skin, to grasp at the back of Pietro’s neck. His lips trailed over the curve of Pietro’s shoulder before ghosting over his ear, teasing something less vicious.

“Tell me you want more.” Steve ordered, voice deep and resonating, just barely above a whisper. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, hot and tacky, in desperate need of water, and licked along the skin in front of Pietro’s ear, right over stubble and side-burn, tasting of ash, sweat, and pennies. Tangy; and his mouth started salivating for more than one reason.

“Yes, I want more,” Pietro replied quietly, voice wavering under the weight of the Captain, under the pressure in his ass, under the command in Steve’s voice. He moaned when Steve’s tongue traced the curve of his jaw; possessively, doing what he wanted because he could.

“Come on, say it like you mean it,” Steve insisted, twisting his wrist until his fingers grazed that sweet spot, nails scratching just right. “You didn’t follow me in here for nothing, did you?” he continued, voice raising in a question, not a rhetorical one. “Tell me.”

“Please. I want more. _Please,_ I want more,” Pietro all but chanted, struggling in the best of ways to catch his breath with supersoldier fingers stretching his ass.

“Of course you do,” Steve agreed lowly, sounding more like he was answering his own question, making a statement of fact, rather than wanting an actual answer. He peels himself off of Pietro’s back, keeping his hips pressed into Pietro’s ass, hand still digging into muscle, fingers still deep. He pulls his fingers out to run them along the cleft of his ass, over his hole and brushing down towards his balls. He gets all but his thumb slick, scrunching his four digits together to start pressing them into the loosened ring of muscle, palm down.

The stretch was more, the pressure was so much more, and Pietro grunted before releasing a strained groan as Steve slowly continued to push all of his fingers inside of him. The leather cuffs encasing the top half of his fingers caught on Pietro’s rim, but Steve was never a quitter, so he twisted his wrist until he could wiggle in, pink skin stretching over skin and leather, until his top knuckles were nestled snuggly between firm cheeks. He was tempted to go further, to keep pushing until his hand was swallowed by hot muscle, stretched wide over his fist, but four to the knuckles was enough.

He watched the muscles in Pietro’s back tense and relax with every small, involuntary movement he made. Steve controlled his actions, pushing in and out with restraint only he could muster, watching half his hand disappear and reappear until it was easy, until muscles finally gave-way to the command to stop clenching. Pietro took it all in stride, grunting and groaning with the sensation, bordering too-much but still wanting more. His dick was impossibly hard, hidden under the edge of the table, no doubt leaking onto the floor in one clear, long cord of arousal. If Steve leaned back enough, he could see the glistening line, pooling on the floor, attached to Pietro’s reddened cockhead like a tether, aiding in keeping him in place. Steve’s own dick was painfully hard, carelessly pressing into whatever bit of Pietro’s body it could reach as Steve toyed with him.

Steve kept pumping all four fingers until he was satisfied with the ease of the movement, occasionally leaning down to spit over the stretched rim to reduce the friction on his hand, so the edges of his glove could easily slide into tight heat, too. Every thrust brought out small, punched-out noises from Pietro, his forehead firmly planted on the table as his feet slowly swiveled out, to widen his stance. His back arched into it, and whenever Steve felt the slightest amount of pressure, like Pietro was trying to fuck Steve’s hand, Steve would slap his ass, a loud _crack_ , before shoving Pietro’s hips against the table’s edge, bruising skin, setting an ache into the bone. The kid seemed to appreciate it, the help in staying good, staying obedient when his body found it difficult to listen, with sensation setting his brain alight. It was glorious, and if that made Steve feel more powerful than donning the shield and tricolors, no one had to know about it.

He curled his fingers, rubbing the pads of each digit over that tell-tale bulb of flesh, textured differently; the spot on the inside that made Pietro clench around his fingers, arching his back and fisting his hands on the table. Steve kept his fingers curled as he pulled them out, tugging at the rim roughly, earning a whimper for the sting and sudden emptiness. Pietro looked behind himself, over his shoulder, and it was such a beautiful sight that Steve almost lost his resolve, almost broke this version of himself. His skin gleamed with sweat, pale through all the dirt, blood, and edema, and his eyes were mostly black, pupils blown wide, swallowing glacial blue. Flayed open and wanting more. The only way to describe that look.

Steve grasped the base of his cock with the hand that had been inside Pietro, using the other to reach over and tug his hair, pulling him down, forcing the other man to turn and kneel in front of him. He shoved his cock into that waiting mouth, wide open, tongue covering lower teeth, _so good_. He used his newly free hands to wrangle Pietro’s hands above his head, pinning his wrists to the edge of the table with one hand, a bruising grasp. Steve’s other hand fell to the top of Pietro’s head, slowly sliding down the side of his face until he could cup Pietro’s throat, feeling the muscles swell around his cock with each thrust. He relished that sensation, the feel of wet mouth and tongue gliding over his length, teeth that had no choice but to scrape lightly over his girth, throat that strained to swallow him down. Steve kept his gaze forward, staring off into nothing as he continued to fuck the other man’s mouth, holding him just where he needed the hole to be. Out of his lower peripheral, he could see Pietro looking up at him, eyes wide and watery, filled with worship and need. Powerful didn’t even begin to explain it, and Steve would be caught dead rather than admit being looked at like that, with his dick down Pietro’s throat, made him feel godlike. Spoke to that prideful side of him, the one that never let him back down when he was small; the one that made him hit a few times too many when he got big.

He came suddenly, violently down Pietro’s throat, an expression of shock and satisfaction painting Pietro’s sweaty, dirty features. The almost translucent skin of the inside of his biceps contrasted around the dark of his scruff, the filth of soot and grime covering his face and neck, and Steve imagined sucking bruises into that thin skin as torrent after torrent spilled from his cock. Pietro choked on the sure volume of it, swallowing diligently even as some started to leak from the corners of his mouth as Steve kept fucking his face through it. Steve was a pro at controlling his reaction to orgasm when he needed to, when he wanted it. The War did that to him; having to steel precious moments of time to get yourself off, most of the time surrounded by other men doing the same thing or looking haunted and deserted. That skill allowed him to look down at Pietro, moaning as he struggled around Steve’s still-hard cock, tongue laving at the skin, trying to clean every inch of him of his release; an impossible task.

Reluctantly, Steve pulled his cock out of Pietro’s mouth, stuffing a whine of protest back into his mouth with his hand; four fingers, way past the knuckle, watching Pietro’s swollen, red lips stretch around the middle of his palm. Cold eyes struggled to stay open, to stay on deep blue ones, as Pietro gasped for a hard-earned breath. Steve leaned down, slowly, predatory, admiring the way the younger man swallowed and gagged around his fingers, working them just like his cock. It felt so indulgent, like that mix of spit and cum coating his fingers was melted chocolate, Pietro’s mouth the warm vessel. He closed the short distance, languidly licking into Pietro’s mouth, tonguing around his own fingers just to get a taste of himself from the mouth of someone else. Pietro moaned helplessly, his tongue trying to wriggle around Steve’s fingers to chase the older man’s tongue unsuccessfully. Steve pulled away, nipping at an exposed corner of Pietro’s bottom lip before standing at his full height.

With one more thrust of his hand, fingers curling to try and sneak down Pietro’s throat, Steve pulled his shiny-slick hand out of that mouth, a pearly sheen, more prominent on the dark brown leather, which he used to slather over his frighteningly hard cock. Pietro watched the motions with captivated desire, gaze flicking between the cock level with his face and the eyes towering over him. Steve did little more than stare at him, the sort of indifference one would give their prey when they knew they had them; when escape was futile and the game was one, reward yet to be reaped.

Pietro made the mistake of trying to reach out with his tongue, hopeful lips working the air to try and wrap around the treat in front of them. Steve pulled his wrists up harshly, tearing a short cry from his willing prize before Steve lifted him and shoved his back down on the table. Steve stepped between the spread, pale thighs, hands pressing into Pietro’s hamstrings to push his legs down and back, spreading him wide open, perfect for Steve to fuck into. Pietro gripped the edge of the table beneath his ass, grounding himself, keeping put. He looked down his body to see Steve’s hard, wet cock resting on the crease of his thigh, just waiting to split him in half. He whimpered, trying his best to grind his hips down, wriggling to try to shift Steve’s dick down to where he wanted it. His ministrations were met by a single slap to the side of his face, Steve’s thumb slipping into his shocked-open mouth to grip his jaw and keep him facing forward. He had abandoned holding on to Pietro’s thighs when he realized the kid would stay spread for him, wouldn’t even consider closing them off. One hand gripped his jaw, strong thumb making his bottom teeth ache, and another large hand tangled into his hair, searing his scalp in a sting that made his cock twitch; a hold to remind him that he had no cards in this game.

“Look at you, so fucking desperate for it,” Steve admonished, although it sounded close to reverence. “You like this with everyone? I bet a slut like you let’s anyone do whatever they want, don’t you?” Pietro was smart enough to hold back a snide remark, but he couldn’t hide the flush that ran from his cheeks down to his chest. He loved it, being made to feel small and dirty, like a perfect little whore, for Steve. “Just a greedy little slut. Half my fucking hand and your ass _still_ squirms around for more.”

“ _Yes, yes,_ ” Pietro breathed out around a thumb, eyes falling shut as his brain started melting into the harsh words, even more wounding because they were true. Steve used his hold to shake Pietro enough to force his eyes back open, wide and pleading up at the Captain, the _more more more_ he wanted to beg for lost in this throat.

“Just couldn’t wait until we got back to the Tower to go whore yourself out? Run around the town getting as much dick as you can in one night.” Steve said that last part like a statement, like he knew, and it wasn’t far off. He let his eyes trail all over Pietro’s body, down to his spread thighs, leaking cock, and loosened hole. Steve shifted his hips so the tip of his cock could press right at Pietro’s entrance, just teasing with slight pressure, not breaching yet. “Just couldn’t wait, so you had to come in here and get me to do it. Why’s that?” He asked, condescension in his tone. The question held enough implication in it to make Pietro moan, fighting to keep his eyes open as his mouth watered and his hole clenched around the dull ache of emptiness.

” _Fuck_ , because-“

“Because no one else fucks me like you do,” Steve answered for him, his eyes going round and pleading, acting the part of Pietro as his tone mocked him, shaking his jaw, pulling his thumb out of his mouth to wrap his bear-paw sized hand around his lower mandible. Pietro loved it, the way Steve forced him to look up at him as he peered down at Pietro like the thing he was right then. “Right? Say it.”

Pietro moaned again, and although they had only fucked that one day, numerous times, it was the complete truth. No one could instill that kind of ache in him, could make him cum so fucking hard he felt wrung-out from it. “No one else fucks me like you do,” he repeated, voice soft and sure, which seemed to please Steve, if the little hint of a smirk said anything.

“No one else can use your little holes like me, can they?” Steve asked, voice deep and resonating, going straight to Pietro’s dick. He makes an undignified sound when Steve leaned down to lick a possessive line on his cheek before taking Pietro’s bottom lip between his teeth and _tugging_. Steve released his lip at the feel of resistance before pulling back enough to look right at him, expectantly.

“No, no, just you,” Pietro groans, pulling his own bottom lip into his mouth just to try to get a taste of Steve on his tongue. Steve growled as he watched, quickly pushing away to bend down and spit sloppily on Pietro’s hole before standing back up and unceremoniously shoving his cock into the other man’s body until his hips were flush against Pietro’s ass.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve grunted, somehow louder than Pietro’s surprised shout at the sudden intrusion, the abrupt fullness. He didn’t give the younger man any time to adjust, Steve just started fucking into him with all he had, rather, all he allowed himself to have with other people. It was a punishing pace, one to surely mark hip-shaped bruises into the line where Pietro’s thighs met his ass. He did nothing, not that he could if he wanted to; just letting Steve use him up, reap what he sowed in terms of bothering a pissed-off supersoldier ramped up with post-fight adrenaline. It wasn’t without its benefits: Pietro loved being railed, and being fucked by Steve was an experience in and of itself. Being fucked by Steve in the uniform, as Captain as Captain America could get, was a special kind of brutal. The kind that left his body and his soul hurting exquisitely.

Pietro’s body kept sliding up the table with every thrust, slick from sweat, sticky in places from drying, congealed blood, and Steve would just wrangle him back down by the hips. He hardly looked down at him while Pietro couldn’t take his eyes off the intense, relieved face, like Steve was finally relaxing but still diligent in his task. No one expected it of him, of course. How could a mantle so beloved, so respected; seen as a symbol for patriotism and strength, ever be seen as brutal or unforgiving? Pietro had been privy to that, first hand. Steve went into battle with nothing more than a shield and his fists, preferring to beat his foes into the ground than end them quickly. In a way, it was what he was showing with Pietro now: beating him into submission, with hard hands and harder cock, taking his time, proving his point. The point being that if Pietro had wanted calm or some semblance of gentleness, he should have waited. He should have let the hate and guilt fizzle away before he came a-knockin’. But that was only if he wanted that. It was _this_ side of Steve that intrigued him, and sue him for wanting to see what ways he could make the good Captain put him in place.

Steve got his fill of watching the pain and pleasure play on Pietro’s face, got tired of dragging his body back down to fill him up completely, so he pulled out, used his grip on Pietro’s hip to flip him over, ramming his cock back inside him to choke the whimper out of him. Pietro’s face slammed into the metal table, and he was sure his cheek might bruise from it, but that was the thing with this kind of fucking after a mission; you could blame the marks on the fight, not the fucker using you as a pre-blown sex doll because you hardly gave him a choice. Steve used the new position to grind against Pietro’s ass, keeping himself deep inside that tight heat, pinning the man beneath him by a hand to the nape of his neck. His other hand scratched nails down Pietro’s back, catching on scrapes and chunks of dirt until he could squeeze the top of his ass.

The path was beginning to get dry, the cum-and-spit lube a poor comparison to the longevity of the real thing. Keeping his dick in Pietro’s ass, Steve spit onto his fingers, keeping his other hand on the nape of his neck, and brought the wet digits to Pietro’s stretched rim. It was cold against friction-heated skin, and Pietro hissed as Steve started rubbing around the delicate skin, spreading saliva to help ease the way. The sound of wet suction could be heard, and when Pietro dared to look over his solder, Steve was releasing his middle finger from his mouth, shiny and slippery, a near smirk on his face as he managed to slip his finger inside Pietro’s ass, alongside his cock.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Pietro groaned, the added stretch burned deliciously as Steve’s finger slide along the side, a semi-circle of pleasure, until it was underneath his own cock, pressing _right_ into Pietro’s prostate.

“You wanted a cock up there so bad,” Steve said, ignoring the way Pietro was shaking as he continued to assault his prostate with a thick, deft finger snuggled up against a huge dick. “Come fucking feel it.”

He froze, the only thing he could manage to do. At first, confusion set in, he wasn’t sure what Steve could mean, but his brain could have been fogged from the overload of sensation going on in his ass, but then answer came to him; excitement traveling up his spine, flushing pink on his cheeks. Pietro lifted a shaky hand from where it was balled up by his head, but Steve didn’t have the patience to wait, he reached out and grabbed Pietro’s wrist and shove his hand towards his own ass. Pietro gasped at the feeling of his hole stretched around cock before Steve, in probably his nicest gesture of the evening, spit on Pietro’s hole, his finger catching some of the slick. Obediently, Pietro grit his teeth as he started to slide a finger inside himself, along Steve’s cock, the exactly opposite location from Steve’s finger. It hurt, but the thrill of actually sliding it, stuffing himself even fuller, was too enticing to pay attention to the sting.

“You like that?” Steve asked, voice just as strained as Pietro felt, taking an experimental thrust, punching out a cry from the other man. “Yeah, I bet you do,” Steve continued, gaining control of his voice, taking long, languid strokes inside him, his middle finger still pressing directly onto that swollen gland inside Pietro. “A little whore like you gets off on being stuffed full, don’t you?”

“Oh, _God, yes,”_ The younger man all but shouted, and that’s when he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to stop his orgasm when it happened, not even a little. Not with his ass that full and Steve saying such dirty things to him in that deep, vibrating voice of his. Pietro felt Steve’s hand move from the back of his neck to the front, a slow drag of skin on skin, deceptively soft. He sighed into the touch before he was violently pulled up by his throat, back slamming into hard, clothed chest. The back of his head was on Steve’s shoulder, allowing the taller man to bring his face down and nose at the expanse of Pietro’s neck, breath tickling the fine hairs there.

“Yeah? You gonna cum with all this up your hole?” Steve growled in his ear, teeth biting harshly on the shell of Pietro’s ear. The smaller man couldn’t answer, so he nodded frantically, his climax creeping closer with every short thrust of Steve’s cock inside him, fingers, both his and Steve’s, adding to the stretch. “Don’t even have to pay that cock of yours any attention, do we?” he asked, tongue sliding along the top of Pietro’s shoulder, tasting what was his. A shudder ran through Pietro’s body as Steve pulled him tighter against himself, gripping his throat a little harder, giving Pietro that perfect choke, just the hint of danger.

Even with his eyes trying to roll in his skull, Pietro could feel Steve shift behind him, his leg shifting out to kick the edge of something on the ground. A metallic slicing rung in his ears as the hand on his throat moved and caught the shield in the air, slamming it down on the table in front of them, star-side up. Even at the awkward angle Steve held him at, one arm stuck between him and Steve, hand on his ass, the other just flailing to the side, desperately wanting to grab onto Steve’s thigh for support, he could look down at the shield. It was dusty, smeared with blood and other bits of enemies dumb enough to try to take the Captain on. It was glorious covered in all that decay of the things threatening what he stood for. The dick up his ass made standing difficult, because of the height difference. Steve had him up on the balls of his feet, and he would be struggling to stay there if the hand hadn’t returned to his throat.

“No, we don’t,” Steve continued his statement, because that was what it was: a statement of fact. “You’ve whored yourself out enough to know how to cum _just like this_.” Steve accentuated the last few words by pressing his finger painfully down on Pietro’s prostate, stretching his hole even more, searing white-hot. “I remember,” he finished before lifting Pietro up, just an inch or two, so his painfully hard dick could twitch over the lower half of the shield.

Pietro cried out at the sudden change of angle, at the way Steve’s dick and fingers carved their way inside him, how his own finger fit into that equation, stretching himself fantastically wide. He thought nothing more could happen, nothing else could increase the amount of sensation he felt, the way his cheeks burned as he was held aloft, literally, by a rod up his ass and a strong hand around his throat. Cap was full of surprises, Pietro was learning, and that included Steve’s surprise ability to cock-and-finger-fuck an orgasm right out of him at will.

Steve used his enhanced senses to put a full-blown, strategic assault on Pietro’s prostate with the pad of his finger, his cock filling up the space, making the focused point of the digit that much more intense. His cock throbbed when he could feel that small bundle inside Pietro swell as his muscles started to clench around him. It was also so satisfying to rip an orgasm right out of someone; to really make it just happen without the other’s ability to stop it or make it happen faster. He was in complete control of Pietro’s pleasure, and that was one of the parts of him he kept a secret; he got off on the control. The pure, unabashed ability to get what he wanted from someone’s body.

The smaller man could only tremble in the hold Steve had him in, and it was the most glorious thing, to be held at whim, to be (almost) forced into orgasm by sweet torture on that sensitive spot inside him. The untouched orgasm was hard for someone to achieve, and it mostly had to do with focus by that individual, but Steve knew where to touch, how to touch, and just how much pressure Pietro could take before his body gave up and released all that tension.

It happened when Steve hooked his chin over Pietro’s shoulder so he could see his work come to fruition; choking Pietro a little harder, that delicious blood-reduction that left his head swimming, pressing his hips into Pietro’s ass to bury his cock as deep as he could, and his finger digging into his prostate, nail scraping that sensitized flesh, bursting the dam. Pietro came with a strangled groan, mouth opening wide, eyes unable to close as he watched rope after rope of opalescent white streak over the dirty shield, as fast as it had been in Steve’s room, the sound as audible as a stream of water hitting metal sporadically. Through the fog of it, Pietro could feel Steve pull his finger out, tugging Pietro’s hand away from his hole, as well, leaving Steve’s cock hard and aching inside him.

For a few seconds, Steve let Pietro lean his head back on his shoulder, catching his breath, mostly for the vision he made. Pietro was a beautiful man, and it was no hardship to look at his blissed-out face, plump lips parted, pink tongue visible, and arctic-blue eyes open and glazed. It was a brief moment of calm before Steve shoved Pietro’s head down onto the shield, pressing the same hand into the side of his head, covering his ear, temple, and part of his cheek. Pietro could feel the slimy mix of cold and warm against his face; his own release mixing with the filth already on the shield. He grimaced at the sting of Steve pulling out of him, his large hand still pinning his head down, but stepping to the side to get a better view.

“Use that mouth for something good,” Steve growled, eyes going from the mess on the shield back to Pietro’s waiting stare. “Clean it off.” He didn’t give the kid time do more than stick out his tongue before he started moving Pietro’s head for him, smearing his face around in the mess as he lapped at the mix of mess on metal. “Such a good little cum rag.” Steve commented, voice flat and indifferent, making it sound less like a praise and more a point of fact. Pietro groaned, eyes falling shut as he started licking with more enthusiasm. It was vile, both familiar and unfamiliar tastes mingling on his tongue, but the look of approval on the Captain’s face made it all worth it.

He wasn’t forced to clean the shield to gleaming, but once all the cum was licked away, Steve lifted his head up by the hair, turning Pietro’s face so he could lick one solid line on the stubbled cheek smeared with cum and remnants of the fight. He then licked right into Pietro’s mouth, in case the younger man needed reminding of what he was, what he was good for tasting and taking from Steve. Pietro didn’t need the reminder, not from Steve, but he appreciated the addition of _Steve_ taste in his mouth; rich and invasive, like spiced rum and smoky cedar. Something vintage about the flavor of his tongue that made his mouth unique, and nothing like any other kiss Pietro had ever experienced.

Steve broke the kiss far earlier than Pietro would have liked, but his disappointed expression was wiped from his face by Steve turning him around, grabbing him by the hips, and lifting. He threw Pietro onto the table, back landing heavily on the tacky surface of the shield, ass hanging just off the edge of the table, arms bent at the elbows, hands close to his face in an involuntary motion to protect his it. Steve threw Pietro’s right leg over his left shoulder, tilting the younger man to the side ever so slightly, letting his cock rest along the crease of Pietro’s thigh. He leaned forward, large hand dragging up Pietro’s torso and neck, grazing over his chin until he could shove four fingers towards the back of Pietro’s throat. The gag was forceful, but productive, and Steve used the thicker, more viscous, saliva to coat his cock and Pietro’s abused hole before burying himself back inside, letting every inch carve its way back through clenching muscle.

Pietro moaned loudly, the sound reverberating through the mostly metal room, and when he opened his eyes, having fallen closed involuntarily, Steve’s were on him, boring into him with an intensity that was equally intimidating as it was breathtaking. After a minute of sitting there, Steve’s cock forcing Pietro’s body to learn its shape, leave an imprint in muscle no one could see, an invisible brand, he finally started to move. Pietro gasped, his body jolting each time Steve’s hips made contact with his ass, and the way he was positions forced the bulging head of Steve’s cock to grind against his sensitized prostate almost painfully. The rough seems and patches of Steve’s uniform were abrasive on Pietro’s heated skin, each thrust setting lines into flesh in their distinct pattern. He was relieved to know what Steve looked like outside of it, naked and as vulnerable as anyone like him could be. He wasn’t gifted that sight in that moment; wasn’t allowed to see any of Steve outside of his title.

Steve held on to both Pietro and the shield beneath him, keeping the body he was fucking into where he wanted it, keeping the younger man pinned between two weapons. Every thrust fucked out moans and _ahhs_ from Pietro’s raw throat, the man’s cock hard and throbbing again between them. He looked up at Steve, the vision of gold and might shifting with every thrust, and he _needed_ , needed so bad, and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted more: for Steve to cum, cover him in all that hard-earned warmth, or for him to keep wrecking him.

His pleading glare, for _something_ , seemed to get through the numbed Captain, and he doubled his efforts, not even bothering to consider he might just break something in the process (he wouldn’t, but it’s a thought he would have had weeks ago, when everything was fun and light). Steve’s left arm stretched out over Pietro’s slung leg, going up his body inch by inch until his fingers were buried in ivory strands, gripping painfully tight. Pietro hissed into the sting, but reveled in the way his head was held up, the way his face was closer to Steve’s when the larger man leaned over him a bit more. Steve’s other hand stealthily moved to wrap around Pietro’s cock, and when warm, calloused skin and leather squeezed his length, Pietro let his eyes slide shut, mouth open in a grateful gasp. Steve shook his head, only starting to stroke once his eyes opened again.

For all of Steve’s abilities, Pietro was most grateful for his ability to fuck his ass impossibly hard and fast, while stroking his cock at half the speed; it was a flawless dichotomy of sensation, and it was driving Pietro insane. He tried not to wriggle and writhe, not that Steve’s grip would allow much movement, but his body was trying to get away from and melt further into the sensation, and his will wasn’t enhanced with the rest of him. He could hear himself begin to whimper, his balls tightening up towards his body as Steve worked him like a master carpenter: carving Pietro away until he was the shape Steve wanted, until he was smoothed and stained to Steve’s liking. 

“Wanna cum again?” Steve asked, deep and gravely, and it was such a sudden question that Pietro’s brain couldn’t form the words, couldn’t do much else than react to Steve’s words by nodding frantically, whimpering at the sting of his scalp with every movement. “Then beg. Beg for it.” Steve’s expression was hard and demanding, but his eyes shone with an air of desperation that matched Pietro’s. He wanted it just as bad. Pietro’s brain felt soft and pliable, his limbs were tense from trying to stay attached to his consistently jolting body, and his ass already felt a delicious level of soreness he knew he’d be feeling for at least a week. He couldn’t be held responsible for the spew of nonsensical Sokovian pleas to leave his lips in a frantic whine.

The slap across his face came in a breath of less sensation when Steve dropped Pietro’s cock to deliver the blow, just hard enough to force his face to the side and bring the corners of Pietro’s open mouth up into a pleasured grin. His cock continued to ram into him, and it was the only thing grounding him into the moment, keeping his mind from floating. “English,” Steve demanded, his hand going back to stroking Pietro dryly, the leather providing a warm, rough friction to smooth skin. Pietro cursed under his breath, and he knew Steve heard because Steve shook his head again, convincing the younger man to look back at him and comply.

“Please, please. Make me cum, _please_ ,” Pietro repeated in the correct language, knowing exactly the way he must look to Steve: fucked-out, dirty, cum-and-grime stained on one cheek, pink on the other, eyes wide and glassy, and so fucking needy for it.

Steve made a pleased sort of growl before bending down even closer, his own fist wrapped around Pietro’s cock pressing into his abdomen. “Yeah, that how you fucking beg,” he spat, looking down from Pietro’s face to his blotchy torso, the curves of muscle still pronounced and contracting with every thrust from Steve’s hips. He looked back up at Pietro, eyes darker and hungry from his exploration. “Go ahead.”

Pietro moaned in relief, finally allowing the tension in his body to relax, to let his mind give his cock and ass permission to let the sensations wash over him, to let it come and devastate him. Steve pounded into him even harder, squeezing his cock tighter, still stroking in deliberately slow motions. Steve kept his eyes glued to Pietro’s, but when he felt the first signs of climax, his eyes shot down to watch the mess Pietro made because he told him to.

Cum shot out all over Pietro’s body, dick pulsing in Steve’s hand, ass clenching around Steve’s cock like a vice. Pietro’s mouth fell slack, his eyes lidded but open, looking at Steve in awe and pure gratitude. “ _Fuck,”_ Steve groaned softly, licking his lips at the site before meeting Pietro’s gaze. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Pietro chanted through gritted teeth, unsure of how many times he said it because he was _still cumming_ and Steve wasn’t letting up on him, just continuing to fuck him stupid and stroke him through it. He barely felt the dull ache left after the sting on his scalp once Steve let go of his hair, deciding to grip him by the throat instead. On a raspy inhale, Steve’s mouth came crashing down on his, teeth clacking together brutally, split lips breaking open once more. He moaned into it all the same, even felt Steve’s other hand come up to hold the back of his head, forcing Pietro’s body down to meet each of Steve’s thrusts. Steve panted, breaking the kiss but keeping their faces close, breathing the same salty air.

He was close, Pietro could tell, even after weeks, he knew the face Steve Rogers made when he came, and the relief was just a few thrusts away from washing over his face. He pulled Pietro even closer to him, holding him close as he fucked him ruthlessly, claiming every inch of Pietro’s body that he could shove his cock into. He bit Pietro’s bottom lip before leaning back up, shifting the hand on Pietro’s throat to the back of his neck, his other hand moved down, ready to stroke himself off on Pietro’s stomach. Steve’s head fell back slightly, but he kept his eyes on his target, growling when he pulled out, stroking his cock while it spurt out thick lines of white all over Pietro’s cum-covered skin. It seemed Steve’s knees gave out, and he gripped Pietro’s throat just a little tighter to right himself, and getting that kind of reaction out of the Captain made his spent dick twitch. Steve let out one final, deep, vibrating growl before his slowed his strokes, chest heaving under his uniform, stretching the material. His face was flushed, and there was sweat along his hairline, and he was breathing harshly as he leaned down to kiss Pietro one last time.

While Steve was kissing him, Pietro felt a hand swirl in the mess on his stomach and chest, collecting their combined release on thick fingers. Steve pulled away enough to bring his hand between their mouths, fingers coated in translucent white. Pietro opened his mouth for it, and Steve fed him their cum eagerly, Pietro enthusiastic as ever to taste them together. His hand went back down for more, and that time Pietro wrapped his hands around Steve’s wrist, tilting his head to lick between his fingers, cleaning both skin and leather of salty climax thoroughly. He hummed contentedly as he swallowed it down, eyes closing in the pleasure of his task, at the way Steve’s fingers would pet his tongue in appreciation.

“Good boy,” Steve praised, taking his fingers out of Pietro’s mouth to push a stuck, errant curl off of the younger man’s sweaty forehead. It was a gentle gesture, one that made Pietro lean into the touch, sigh into the softness. The bliss of it ended suddenly, though, once Pietro opened his eyes again and saw the muddle of emotion on Steve’s face. The pronounced, omega-shaped scrunch between Steve’s brows was troubling, in only that it showed he was deep in thought, doubt and apprehension clearly settled within those flesh lines. Swallowing hard, Pietro reached up, fingertips barely grazing the smooth skin of Steve’s jaw before his hand was batted away, gently, but firm in purpose. Steve stared at him for a few moments, while his internal conflict played like an ancient Greek battle in his eyes for Pietro to watch. Without as much as a huff, he pushed away from him, quickly stuffing his softened cock back into his pants, not even bothering to close them. He stumbled in his step before wincing, holding his side with an angered grunt, grimacing as he looked down at the stain on his uniform. Pietro watched as it took every ounce of his careful control to not rip his uniform jacket off, pulling at the invisible zipper until it opened and he was able to maneuver out of it. The dark spot of dried blood was wet and shiny again, fresh ichor glistening from the wound, newly opened from the motions of their activities.

It should be sick that even after all the violence, the brutality two men could go through, bleeding and exhausted, that the sight of Steve, tight shirt and all muscle, a fucking golden statue, made Pietro want even more. Seeing him bleed, the same person with so much strength as to leave everyone arrestingly helpless, made Pietro respect him more, for being more human than god. Steve caught him staring, and maybe it was because Pietro was naked and fucked-out that he didn’t even try to hide the hold on his side, didn’t try to school his expression from that of painful irritation and bone-deep fatigue to something more controlled, commanding. Something fitting of what they just did. It seemed all that rage and loathing was pumped out of him, smeared on his skin, sitting heavy in his stomach.

“JARVIS, lift the current settings on the room. Return them to normal.”

“ _Of course, Captain,”_ The AI replied, a pleasant chime signaled that the room had returned to normal. Sound proofing gone, locks unlocked. Their bubble popped. Back to professionalism, even with Pietro bare and Steve’s pants opened.

Pietro licked his lips, shifting from his position on the table, already feeling the deep, satisfying ache in his ass and bruises on his skin from a different sort of fight than what they left behind. “Steve-“

“Not now,” Steve interjected, raising a hand to stop the other man from saying whatever he was trying to say. Steve’s closed eyes opened and he looked weary, carrying the weight of the world on broad, guilt-ridden shoulders, like Atlas; just as solid and unwavering as stone. “Just go.” He turned around at that, his back towards Pietro as he started to increase the distance between them.

“Steve-“ Pietro tried again, still naked and vulnerable, but feeling more like the one who should feel sorry, who should be carrying the blame for whatever was weighing heavy on Steve’s soul.

“Just fucking listen to me for once,” Steve said, voice bordering on a yell, cutting him off once again. He didn’t turn to look at him, just kept his back facing Pietro, standing a little taller, authority coming back to him, burying that bit of Steve down beneath Captain America.

Pietro scoffed, incredulously, staring at the back of Steve’s head as he slipped off the shield, off the table, and bent down to put on his forgotten clothes, tattered and dirty, covering more filth than they had before they were taken off. “Sure thing, Captain,” he spat, and Steve didn’t even flinch, nothing. Pietro was hoping for some sort of reaction, even an angry one. Getting nothing was worse, a cold sort of feeling; the indifference unsettling.

Steve could hear the soft sounds of elastic clothing sliding against skin, the dull thumbs of rubber shoes being stepped into. He could feel Pietro’s presence standing behind him for a moment longer, and the scared part of him almost wished he’d try to say something again, maybe he would be able to answer him then. Nothing else came, and that was fair. Pietro left the room, and the pain in his side couldn’t compare to the disappointment he felt in himself. He let a pretty face and tight ass take over his control; something he usually prided himself in keeping contained. Although everything he had done to the kid had been enthusiastically received, it still felt like a lead weight in his stomach, the fact the brutality came so easily to him

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the room, and either Pietro hadn’t raised suspicion on his way back out with the rest of the group or no one felt the immediate need to talk to Steve about it. He felt the trademark swoop in his stomach as the Quinjet stopped moving forward and shifted to its vertical descent towards the helipad on top of Stark Tower. The hum of the engines slowing down, the vibration of energy waves reverberating off the Tower’s surface calmed him, though. When they touched ground, he held back, waiting a while to ensure he wouldn’t have to make-nice with anyone on his way out. He looked down at his side, the bleeding had stopped again, and by morning he would be well on his way to healed, barely a mark left to remember it by. He grabbed his jacket, shield, and helmet before walking off the empty jet, back to his floor where he planned to shower, eat, and sleep for an inconceivable amount of time. The dreams of pale skin mottled blue and black, tinged with red, cool-blue eyes, and icy hair were sure to haunt him. The taste of him was a permanent fixture on his tongue, and so help him if he didn’t want to sweetly kiss the kid pliant and fuck him raw any chance he could get. Any chance he was gifted the opportunity to give Pietro exactly what he needed from the only person who could give it to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else get the Kiss-Ass reference? I just had to, since it was the first time I realized that Aaron-Taylor Johnson was a beautiful specimen to cherish and dream about laying hands on you. Also, his role as Count Vronsky in Anna Karenina is an absolute work of art. Just trust me if you haven’t seen it. If you feel any sort of tingling at the mention of Aaron-Taylor Johnson, watch Anna Karenina. You’re welcome. 
> 
> And Steve… I’m a firm supporter of Any Steve is the Best Steve, but I can’t help but be drawn to the endearing, obliviously horny Steve, as well as the I’m Going to Put You Through This Window and Fuck You in the Shards Steve. The kinda guy you want to hold you gently and spit in your mouth. 
> 
> Well, to anyone reading this ludicrous, pornographic fever-dream, I salute you. Steve salutes you. America salutes you.  
> Let me know what you think, or suggestions, you know… anything. Haha. I’m not picky.


End file.
